XXI.

Rivulet crossing my ground, And bringing me down from the Hall This garden-rose that I found, Forgetful of Maud and me, And lost in trouble and moving round Here at the head of a tinkling fall, And trying to pass to the sea; Rivulet, born at the Hall, My Maud has sent it by thee (If I read her sweet will right) On a blushing mission to me, Saying in odour and colour, 'Ah, be Among the roses to-night.'