IN ANY GARDEN
I
I dream'd in a garden when noon was past,
On a thyme-sweet bank reclining—
Half dream'd, half thought of the peace unbroken
After the breeze to the rose has spoken,
And ere it rises, where light so still is,
To breathe of love to the shining lilies.
Over the bower was the bindweed twining,
And beyond the lily's last white cup
Life's mystery yielded its secret up:
So the end seem'd clear at last—
As in any garden, when noon is past.
II
They came who lead me, the Sons of Thought,
That ever my steps attend,
And the first is named the Sense of the End,
But the second the Way that the End is sought:
Now as to the third, I have search'd my soul,
But I know not well, for His face is dim,
If love can divine the great name of Him,
Yet I dream that His name is The Goal—
Say, have you also by these been taught?
Have you not seen them, from first to last,
In any garden, when noon is past?
