Come into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, night, has flown, Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the gate alone; Maud And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, And the musk of the rose is blown. For a breeze of morning moves, And the planet of Love is on high, Beginning to faint in the light that she loves On a bed of daffodil sky.
Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe, and pale gessamine, The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, The glowing violet, The musk-rose, and the well attir'd woodbine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears: Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffadillies fill their cups with tears, To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies.john milton
Throw hither all your quaint enamell'd eyes That on the green turf suck the honied showers, And purple all the ground with vernal flowers. Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, The white pink, and the pansy freakt with jet, The glowing violet, The musk-rose, and the well-attir'd woodbine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears.john milton
And stroke with listless hand The woodbine through the window, till at last I came to do it with a sort of love.Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Aurora Leigh (1857), Book I.
Around in silent grandeur stood The stately children of the wood; Maple and elm and towering pine Mantled in folds of dark woodbine.Julia C. R. Dorr, At the Gate; reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 372.
A filbert-hedge with wild-briar overtwined, And clumps of woodbine taking the soft wind Upon their summer thrones.john keats
And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, And the musk of the rose is blown.Alfred Tennyson, Maud; A Monodrama (1855), Part XXII, Stanza I.
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