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George Meredith - Margaret`s Bridal Eve
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I 

The old grey mother she thrummed on her knee: 
There is a rose that`s ready; 
And which of the handsome young men shall it be? 
There`s a rose that`s ready for clipping. 

My daughter, come hither, come hither to me: 
There is a rose that`s ready; 
Come, point me your finger on him that you see: 
There`s a rose that`s ready for clipping. 

O mother, my mother, it never can be: 
There is a rose that`s ready; 
For I shall bring shame on the man marries me: 
There`s a rose that`s ready for clipping. 

Now let your tongue be deep as the sea: 
There is a rose that`s ready; 
And the man`ll jump for you, right briskly will he: 
There`s a rose that`s ready for clipping. 

Tall Margaret wept bitterly: 
There is a rose that`s ready; 
And as her parent bade did she: 
There`s a rose that`s ready for clipping. 

O the handsome young man dropped down on his knee: 
There is a rose that`s ready; 
Pale Margaret gave him her hand, woe`s me! 
There`s a rose that`s ready for clipping. 

         II 

O mother, my mother, this thing I must say: 
There is a rose in the garden; 
Ere he lies on the breast where that other lay: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

Now, folly, my daughter, for men are men: 
There is a rose in the garden; 
You marry them blindfold, I tell you again: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

O mother, but when he kisses me! 
There is a rose in the garden; 
My child, `tis which shall sweetest be! 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

O mother, but when I awake in the morn! 
There is a rose in the garden; 
My child, you are his, and the ring is worn: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

Tall Margaret sighed and loosened a tress: 
There is a rose in the garden; 
Poor comfort she had of her comeliness 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

My mother will sink if this thing be said: 
There is a rose in the garden; 
That my first betrothed came thrice to my bed; 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

He died on my shoulder the third cold night: 
There is a rose in the garden; 
I dragged his body all through the moonlight: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

But when I came by my father`s door: 
There is a rose in the garden; 
I fell in a lump on the stiff dead floor: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

O neither to heaven, nor yet to hell: 
There is a rose in the garden; 
Could I follow the lover I loved so well! 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

         III 

The bridesmaids slept in their chambers apart: 
There is a rose that`s ready; 
Tall Margaret walked with her thumping heart: 
There`s a rose that`s ready for clipping. 

The frill of her nightgown below the left breast: 
There is a rose that`s ready; 
Had fall`n like a cloud of the moonlighted West: 
There`s a rose that`s ready for clipping. 

But where the West-cloud breaks to a star: 
There is a rose that`s ready; 
Pale Margaret`s breast showed a winding scar: 
There`s a rose that`s ready for clipping. 

O few are the brides with such a sign! 
There is a rose that`s ready; 
Though I went mad the fault was mine: 
There`s a rose that`s ready for clipping. 

I must speak to him under this roof to-night: 
There is a rose that`s ready; 
I shall burn to death if I speak in the light: 
There`s a rose that`s ready for clipping. 

O my breast! I must strike you a bloodier wound: 
There is a rose that`s ready; 
Than when I scored you red and swooned: 
There`s a rose that`s ready for clipping. 

I will stab my honour under his eye: 
There is a rose that`s ready; 
Though I bleed to the death, I shall let out the lie: 
There`s a rose that`s ready for clipping. 

O happy my bridesmaids! white sleep is with you! 
There is a rose that`s ready; 
Had he chosen among you he might sleep too! 
There`s a rose that`s ready for clipping. 

O happy my bridesmaids! your breasts are clean: 
There is a rose that`s ready; 
You carry no mark of what has been! 
There`s a rose that`s ready for clipping. 

         IV 

An hour before the chilly beam: 
Red rose and white in the garden; 
The bridegroom started out of a dream: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

He went to the door, and there espied: 
Red rose and white in the garden; 
The figure of his silent bride: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

He went to the door, and let her in: 
Red rose and white in the garden; 
Whiter looked she than a child of sin: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

She looked so white, she looked so sweet: 
Red rose and white in the garden; 
She looked so pure he fell at her feet: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

He fell at her feet with love and awe: 
Red rose and white in the garden; 
A stainless body of light he saw: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

O Margaret, say you are not of the dead! 
Red rose and white in the garden; 
My bride! by the angels at night are you led? 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

I am not led by the angels about: 
Red rose and white in the garden; 
But I have a devil within to let out: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

O Margaret! my bride and saint! 
Red rose and white in the garden; 
There is on you no earthly taint: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

I am no saint, and no bride can I be: 
Red rose and while in the garden; 
Until I have opened my bosom to thee: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

To catch at her heart she laid one hand: 
Red rose and white in the garden; 
She told the tale where she did stand: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

She stood before him pale and tall: 
Red rose and white in the garden; 
Her eyes between his, she told him all: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

She saw how her body grow freckled and foul: 
Red rose and white in the garden; 
She heard from the woods the hooting owl: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

With never a quiver her mouth did speak: 
Red rose and white in the garden; 
O when she had done she stood so meek! 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

The bridegroom stamped and called her vile: 
Red rose and white in the garden; 
He did but waken a little smile: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

The bridegroom raged and called her foul: 
Red rose and white in the garden; 
She heard from the woods the hooting owl: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

He muttered a name full bitter and sore: 
Red rose and white in the garden; 
She fell in a lump on the still dead floor: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

O great was the wonder, and loud the wail: 
Red rose and white in the garden; 
When through the household flew the tale: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

The old grey mother she dressed the bier: 
Red rose and white in the garden; 
With a shivering chin and never a tear: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

O had you but done as I bade you, my child! 
Red rose and white in the garden; 
You would not have died and been reviled: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

The bridegroom he hung at midnight by the bier: 
Red rose and white in the garden; 
He eyed the white girl thro` a dazzling tear: 
And the bird sings over the roses. 

O had you been false as the women who stray: 
Red rose and white in the garden; 
You would not be now with the Angels of Day! 
And the bird sings over the roses.
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