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She is coming, my own, my sweet;
...Were it ever so airy a tread,
My heart would hear her and beat,
...Were it earth in an earthy bed;
My dust would hear her and beat,
...Had I lain for a century dead,
Would start and tremble under her feet,
...And blossom in purple and red.
Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-92)
...Were it ever so airy a tread,
My heart would hear her and beat,
...Were it earth in an earthy bed;
My dust would hear her and beat,
...Had I lain for a century dead,
Would start and tremble under her feet,
...And blossom in purple and red.
Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-92)
