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Coventry Patmore - The Azalea
Work rating: Low

There, where the sun shines first
Against our room,
She train`d the gold Azalea, whose perfume
She, Spring-like, from her breathing grace dispersed.
Last night the delicate crests of saffron bloom,
For this their dainty likeness watch`d and nurst,
Were just at point to burst.
At dawn I dream`d, O God, that she was dead,
And groan`d aloud upon my wretched bed,
And waked, ah, God, and did not waken her,
But lay, with eyes still closed,
Perfectly bless`d in the delicious sphere
By which I knew so well that she was near,
My heart to speechless thankfulness composed.
Till `gan to stir
A dizzy somewhat in my troubled head--
It was the azalea`s breath, and she was dead!
The warm night had the lingering buds disclosed,
And I had fall`n asleep with to my breast
A chance-found letter press`d
In which she said,
"So, till to-morrow eve, my Own, adieu!
Parting`s well-paid with soon again to meet,
Soon in your arms to feel so small and sweet,
Sweet to myself that am so sweet to you!`
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