University of Virginia Library


118

IN THE GARDEN OF DREAMS.

From a brier-grown garden that nobody knows,
Save one lone bird with a vagrant tune,
The dreamer gathers a last sad rose.—
The ghost of a season that once was June.
Pale are the blossoms that cluster here,
And lonesome the song of the mateless bird;
Yet linger and listen, O sweet and dear,—
You shall catch of my soul the secret word.