Garden Magic
Within my stone-walled garden (I see her standing now, Uplifted in the twilight, With glory on her brow!) I love to walk at evening And watch, when winds are low, The new moon in the tree-tops, Because she loved it so! And there entranced I listen, While flowers and winds confer, And all their conversation Is redolent of her. I love the trees that guard it, Upstanding and serene, So noble, so undaunted, Because that was her mien. I love the brook that bounds it, Because its silver voice Is like her bubbling laughter That made the world rejoice. I love the golden jonquils, Because she used to say, If soul could choose a color It would be clothed as they. I love the blue-gray iris, Because her eyes were blue, Sea-deep and heaven-tender In meaning and in hue. I love the small wild roses, Because she used to stand Adoringly above them And bless them with her hand. These were her boon companions. But more than all the rest I love the April lilac, Because she loved it best. Soul of undying rapture! How love's enchantment clings, With sorcery and fragrance, About familiar things!
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