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IN AN OLD GARDEN |
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|
 | The poems of Madison Cawein |  |
200
IN AN OLD GARDEN
The autumn glory fades
Upon the withered trees;
And over all the dead leaves fall
And whisper in the breeze.
Upon the withered trees;
And over all the dead leaves fall
And whisper in the breeze.
The violets are dead,
And dead the hollyhocks,
That hang like rags by the wind-crushed flags
And tiger-lily stocks.
And dead the hollyhocks,
That hang like rags by the wind-crushed flags
And tiger-lily stocks.
The wild gourd clambers free
Where the clematis was wont;
Where nenuphars bloomed thick as stars
Rank weeds fill up the fount.
Where the clematis was wont;
Where nenuphars bloomed thick as stars
Rank weeds fill up the fount.
Yet, as in dreams, I hear
A tinkling mandolin
In the dark-blue light of a fragrant night
Float in and out and in.
A tinkling mandolin
In the dark-blue light of a fragrant night
Float in and out and in.
201
Till the dewy vine, that climbs
To a casement's lattice, sways;
And behind the vine, like stars that shine,
Two dark eyes gleam and gaze.
To a casement's lattice, sways;
And behind the vine, like stars that shine,
Two dark eyes gleam and gaze.
And now a perfume comes,
A swift Favonian gust;
And the shrivelled grass, where it doth pass,
Bows worshiping to the dust.
A swift Favonian gust;
And the shrivelled grass, where it doth pass,
Bows worshiping to the dust.
I seem to see her drift
From tree to moonlit tree,
In her jewelled shawl divinely tall,
A mist of drapery.
From tree to moonlit tree,
In her jewelled shawl divinely tall,
A mist of drapery.
And one awaits her there
By the broken Psyche old;
And there they stand, pale hand in hand,
Her thin wrists hooped with gold.
By the broken Psyche old;
And there they stand, pale hand in hand,
Her thin wrists hooped with gold.
But a wind sweeps overhead,
And the frosty leaves are strewn—
And nothing is there but a bough, blown bare,
And the light of the ghostly moon.
And the frosty leaves are strewn—
And nothing is there but a bough, blown bare,
And the light of the ghostly moon.
| The poems of Madison Cawein | |