Page:Maud, and other poems.djvu/168

148 Come, Maurice, come: the lawn as yet Is hoar with rime, or spongy-wet; But when the wreath of March has blossom'd, Crocus, anemone, violet,

Or later, pay one visit here, For those are few we hold as dear; Nor pay but one, but come for many, Many and many a happy year.

January, 1854.