36 THE DELIGHTS OF GARDENS 



And rosy-pale sweet-peas climbed up, 

 And phloxes spread their colours fine, 

 Pink, white, and purple, red as wine, 



And fire burned in the eschscholtzia's cup. 



More dear to me than words can tell 

 Was every cup and spray and leaf ; 

 Too perfect for a life so brief 



Seemed every star and bud and bell. 



And many a maiden, fairer yet, 

 Came smiling to my garden gay, 

 Whose graceful head I decked alway 



With pansy and with mignonette. 



Such slender shapes of girlhood young 

 Haunted that little blooming space, 

 Each with a moi'e delightful face 



Than any flower that ever sprung ! 



O shadowy shapes of youthful bloom ! 

 How fair the sweet procession glides 

 Down memory's swift and silent tides, 



Till lost in doubtful mists of gloom ! 



Year after year new flowers unfold, 

 Year after year fresh maidens fair, 

 Scenting their perfume on the air, 



Follow and find their red and gold. 



And while for them the poppies' blaze 

 I gather, brightening into mine 

 The eyes of vanished beauty shine, 



That gladdened long-lost summer days. 



