Four Tennyson Lyrics

Dainty little maiden, whither would you wander?
    Whither from this pretty home, the home where mother dwells?
"Far and far away," said the dainty little maiden,
"All among the gardens, auriculas, anemones,
    Roses and lilies and Canterbury-bells."

Dainty little maiden, whither would you wander?
    Whither from this pretty house, this city-house of ours?
"Far and far away," said the dainty little maiden,
"All among the meadows, the clover and the clematis,
    Daisies and kingcups and honeysuckle-flowers."

Eleanor

    Over! the sweet summer closes,
      The reign of the roses is done;
    Over and gone with the roses,
      And over and gone with the sun.

[Here; but our sun in Aquitaine lasts longer. I would I were in
Aquitaine again -- your north chills me.]

    Over! the sweet summer closes,
      And never a flower at the close;
    Over and gone with the roses,
      And winter again and the snows.

[That was not the way I ended it first--but unsymmetrically,
preposterously, illogically, out of passion, without art -- like a
song of the people. Will you have it? The last Parthian shaft of a
forlorn Cupid at the King's left breast, and all left-handedness and
under-handedness.]

      And never a flower at the close,
    Over and gone with the roses,
      Not over and gone with the rose.

[True, one rose will outblossom the rest, one rose in a bower. I speak
after my fancies, for I am a Troubadour, you know, and won the violet
at Toulouse; but my voice is harsh here, not in tune, a nightingale
out of season; for marriage, rose or no rose, has killed the golden
violet.]