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ALFRED TENNYSON. 



The following verses are from a poem by Alfred 

 Tennyson, a modern author, of great promise and 

 worth. They are supposed to be spoken by a young 

 girl on new year's eve, who had been chosen queen 

 of May in the foregoing spring, but is now almost 

 on the verge of the grave. 



If you 're waking, call me early, call me early, mother dear, 



For I would see the sun rise upon the glad new year, 



It is the last new year that I shall ever see. 



Then ye may lay me low i' the mould, and think no more of me. 



To-night I saw the sun set : he set, and left behind 

 The good old year, the dear old time, and all my peace of mind, 

 And the new year 's coming up. Mother, but I shall never see 

 The may upon the blackthorn, the leaf upon the tree. 



Last May we made a crown of flowers ; we had a merry day, 

 Beneath the hawthorn, on the green, they made me queen of May : 

 And we danced about the may-pole, and in the hazel copse, 

 Till Charles* wain came out above the tall white chimney tops. 



There 's not a flower on all the hills, the frost is on the pane, 

 I only wish to live till the snow-drops come again. 

 I wish the snow would melt, and the sun come out on high, 

 I long to see a flower before the day I die. 



The building rook will caw, from the windy tall elm tree. 

 And the tufted plover pipe along the fallow lea, 

 And the swallow will comeback again with summer o'er the wave 

 But I shall lie alone Mother, within the mouldering grave. 



Upon the chancel casement, and upon that grave o* mine, 

 In the early early morning, the summer sun will shine> 

 Before the red cock crows from the farm upon the hill, 

 When you are warm asleep. Mother, and all the world is still. 



When the flowers come again, Mother, beneath the waning light, 

 Ye '11 never see me more in the long gray fields at night. 

 When from the dry dark wild the summer airs blow cool. 

 On the oat-grass, and the sword-grass, and the bulrush in the pool. 



Ye '11 bury me. Mother, just beneath the hawthorn shade. 

 And ye '11 come sometimes and see me where I am lowly laid, 



