Maud has a garden of roses
And lilies fair on a lawn;
There she walks in her state
And tends upon bed and bower
And thither I climb'd at dawn
And stood by her garden-gate

I heard no sound where I stood
But the rivulet on from the lawn
Running down to my own dark wood
Or the voice of the long sea-wave as it swell'd
Now and then in the dim-gray dawn;
But I look'd, and round, all round the house I beheld
The death-white curtain drawn
Felt a horror over me creep
Prickle my skin and catch my breath
Knew that the death-white curtain meant but sleep
Yet I shudder'd and thought like a fool of the sleep of death