University of Virginia Library

Nay, go not to the town to-day,
The fierceness of this noontide ray,
Like furnace-fire, will hotly fall,
Reflecting from each red-brick wall;
And the smooth pavement of the street
Will seem to scorch thy passing feet;
And in the crush, and in the crowd
Of busy men, with voices loud,
Mingle not thou! but turn aside,
And let me be this day thy guide.
Come to the garden! Let us pass
Adown this smoothly-shaven grass;
Soft, cool, and as a carpet laid
For the fair foot of Eastern maid.
Here cannot come the scorching heat
Of noonday to thy cool retreat:
The shadow of a broad plane-tree
Is o'er thee like a canopy;
And, just anigh, within thine ear,
The tinkle of a fountain clear,
Within a marble basin falling;
And 'mong the shrouding leaves is heard
The song of many an unseen bird;
And near and far the cuckoo calling!—
And here come odours that the breeze
Brings from the scented flowering trees;
Rich scent that gives the fancy flight
To eastern gardens of delight;
And say whatever bower of bliss
Was fairer in romance than this?—
Romance!—ay, sure, and we will find
Some tale for this sweet spot designed,
Some ancient tale of woe and wonder,
Made to be read the blue sky under—
Made to be read when thoughts are free;
Some tale of fancy fresh and airy,
Of beautiful dwellers in the sea,
Or gambols of the summer faëry!

Now scorching noon is passed, and closed
The book on which our thoughts reposed,
That pleasant book of fairy wonder,
Made to be read the blue skies under.
Now let us take a wider range,
The garden has unceasing change;
And in this sunset's golden tide,
See how the flowers are beautified;
Sweet flowers—sweet, radiant flowers, that we
Regard as visible poetry—
The flowers of Greece, the flowers of Spain,
Of islands in the Southern main;
Of sunny Persia; far Cathay,
And the lion realms of Africa—
How do they send the fancy forth,
As if she had a ship to speed her
To the far corners of the earth,
Where'er a vagrant thought can lead her!
Where'er there is a breath of flowers,
That far-off, pleasant land is ours!
Now, in these walks of verdant shade
Which arching evergreens have made,
Let thee and me, with minds sedate,
Watch till the evening groweth late!
For holy is that serious thought
Which by the coming night is brought;
For then doth spiritual life unfold,
As flowers in daylight open wide;
And God's good spirit, as of old,
Seems to walk here at eventide!