'Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white; <br />Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk; <br />Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font: <br />The fire-fly wakens: wake thou with me. <br /> <br />Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost, <br />And like a ghost she glimmers on to me. <br /> <br />Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars, <br />And all thy heart lies open unto me. <br /> <br />Now lies the silent meteor on, and leaves <br />A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me. <br /> <br />Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, <br />And slips into the bosom of the lake: <br />So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip <br />Into my bosom and be lost in me.'<br /><br />Alfred Lord Tennyson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/from-the-princess/
