 | A memoir by Hallam Tennyson (1897) |  |
146
The Little Maid.
Along this glimmering gallery
A child she loved to play;
This chamber she was born in! See,
The cradle where she lay!
A child she loved to play;
This chamber she was born in! See,
The cradle where she lay!
That little garden was her pride,
With yellow groundsel grown!
Those holly-thickets only hide
Her grave—a simple stone!
With yellow groundsel grown!
Those holly-thickets only hide
Her grave—a simple stone!
| A memoir by Hallam Tennyson (1897) | |