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Laburnam's a lady | 09-Nov-09

"Laburnum?s a lady who always is late, Lilac?s her lover who waits by the gate?.

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Do you know this poem? Do you have any clues to help us find it?


Comments:

It's Tennyson
Melissa Fadul

Don't know the Poet but !st verse=
Labernums a lady the Lilacs her lover
She promised to meet him she vowed to be there
But first she must go for green gloves to her glover
And nextshe must comb the gold curls of her hair
And twist them all twirly and smooth on her fingers
And hook her silk bodice and draw her dress straight
On, on at her mirror she lingers and lingers
Laburnums a lady who always is late.=====
It goes on to talk about the Lilac hoping for her to appear---but alashe fades before she flowers.

Does anyone know the other verse (s)?
Marion Robinson

This is by ffrida (sic) Wolfe and is in her book "The Very Thing", Sidgwick &Jackson 1928.

Lady Laburnum
Labernum's a lady. the Lilac's her lover,
She promised to meet him she vowed to be there;
But first she must go for green gloves to her glover,
And next she must comb the gold curls of her hair,
And twirl them all twisty and smooth on her fingers
And hook her silk bodice and draw her dress straight;
On, on at her mirror she lingers and lingers:–
Laburnum's a lady who always is late.

The Lilac's her lover, her lover is ready,
He's splendid in purple. fine linen and lace,
His kerchief is perfumed. he looks for his lady–
His lady still looks in the glass at her face.
He fumes and he frets in regret and amazement,
She promised to meet him and here is the date;
He sees but a glimpse of gold curls at her casement:–
Laburnum's a lady who always is late.

He waits in the sun till his purple has faded,
He waits in the wind till the perfume has died,
The ruffles are dusty, the lover is jaded
Ere out comes Laburnum at length in her pride.
Her keys in her pocket, her curls long and shining,
She comes to her lover, he droops at the gate,
With splendour half gone and with glory declining:–
Laburnum's a lady who always islate.

Then weep for the fate of them, Lilac-Laburmum.
Who decked themselves out for each other so fine,
Each hoping for praises that now cannot earn 'em,
For lone in her beauty she too shall decline.
Her flounces shall fray and her curls shall grow shorter;
Write over her tomb with a tear for her fate.
"She kept her love waiting three days and a quarter,
Laburnum, a lady who always was late.'



Anne Hardwick


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