 | The Autumn Garden |  |
79
Inscription for a certain Glade in the Isle of Wight
Here the earliest whitethroat sings,Fern-owls weave their noiseless rings,
Here the light is always pure,
And the fragrant hours endure;
Here the wind-flowers waken soon,
Here the month is always June,—
For a foot was here at night,
And an eye that swam in light,
When the fitful moonbeam shone
On the tears of Tennyson.
| The Autumn Garden | |