 | Gathered leaves |  |
GRIEF AND DEATH
Deep joy was mine, I owned a fountain fair
That watered with its soft refreshing dew
The plants and flowers that in my garden grew
And made them spring and bud and blossom there
That watered with its soft refreshing dew
The plants and flowers that in my garden grew
And made them spring and bud and blossom there
And boasting of the world without, I spake,
‘Come sit within my honeysuckle bowers,
And breathe the sweet scent of my lily flowers,
And listen to the song the waters make.’
‘Come sit within my honeysuckle bowers,
And breathe the sweet scent of my lily flowers,
And listen to the song the waters make.’
Strong grief was mine, I gat me forth alone,
Into my garden dry and bare I stept,
And laid me down upon the grass and wept.
No ear, divine or human, heard my moan,
For joy bids welcome all the guests that come,
But sorrow hath no voice—Despair is dumb.
Into my garden dry and bare I stept,
And laid me down upon the grass and wept.
No ear, divine or human, heard my moan,
For joy bids welcome all the guests that come,
But sorrow hath no voice—Despair is dumb.
| Gathered leaves | |