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146
THE OLD GARDEN.
Beyond the quiet homestead's lawn,
In drowsy peace it lies,
Well from the passing gaze withdrawn,
Its matted hedges rise.
Through solemn firs that veil the light,
To reach its gate we press,
Ere softly breaks upon our sight
Its halcyon loveliness.
In drowsy peace it lies,
Well from the passing gaze withdrawn,
Its matted hedges rise.
Through solemn firs that veil the light,
To reach its gate we press,
Ere softly breaks upon our sight
Its halcyon loveliness.
Deep-rimmed with box, the paths we take
Through realms of plenty range,
Where summer's mellowing fervors wake
Perpetual charms of change,
And tender sounds, not told in words,
Forever haunt the breeze,
A sense of epicurean birds
And bacchanalian bees.
Through realms of plenty range,
Where summer's mellowing fervors wake
Perpetual charms of change,
And tender sounds, not told in words,
Forever haunt the breeze,
A sense of epicurean birds
And bacchanalian bees.
147
For bloom and fruit, in blended way,
Here lightly gleam by turns;
Beside the currant's crimson spray
The tiger-lily burns;
Or roses raise their balmy lips
Near purple plums; or yet
The gooseberry's rounded amber slips
Among the mignonette.
Here lightly gleam by turns;
Beside the currant's crimson spray
The tiger-lily burns;
Or roses raise their balmy lips
Near purple plums; or yet
The gooseberry's rounded amber slips
Among the mignonette.
We see the ancient arbor loom,
That bounteous vines enwrap,
And hear, within its fragrant gloom,
Pale-glancing foliage flap;
Or when the wind of autumn grieves
Round pomps her power shall strew,
We watch the grapes from tarnished leaves
Hang dusty and dark-blue.
That bounteous vines enwrap,
And hear, within its fragrant gloom,
Pale-glancing foliage flap;
Or when the wind of autumn grieves
Round pomps her power shall strew,
We watch the grapes from tarnished leaves
Hang dusty and dark-blue.
Shrewd wasps, in yonder jungle, haunt
The blackberry's beaded gloss;
High stalks of maize in vigor flaunt
Green flags and silken floss;
And here broad apple-boughs once more
Hesperian wealth unfold,
Whose dragon is the worm at core
That revels in their gold.
The blackberry's beaded gloss;
High stalks of maize in vigor flaunt
Green flags and silken floss;
And here broad apple-boughs once more
Hesperian wealth unfold,
Whose dragon is the worm at core
That revels in their gold.
148
Now emerald melons wax immense,
Or now with grandeur glows
The pumpkin's yellow corpulence,
In smooth rotund repose.
Here, too, all homelier life occurs
That household aims can please,
From curves of pimpled cucumbers
To bowers of tangled peas.
Or now with grandeur glows
The pumpkin's yellow corpulence,
In smooth rotund repose.
Here, too, all homelier life occurs
That household aims can please,
From curves of pimpled cucumbers
To bowers of tangled peas.
So, thronged by growths of many a grade,
The calm old garden lies,
Half mantled with monastic shade,
Half bared to altering skies;
While sleepy spells are round it cast,
That gently brood and muse ...
Dead songs and sunbeams of the past,
And immemorial dews!
The calm old garden lies,
Half mantled with monastic shade,
Half bared to altering skies;
While sleepy spells are round it cast,
That gently brood and muse ...
Dead songs and sunbeams of the past,
And immemorial dews!
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