A FORSAKEN GARDEN 225 



When wiser, meeker thoughts are given, 

 And I have learnt to lift my face, 

 Reminded how earth's greenest place 

 The colour draws from heaven ; 



It something saith for earthly pain, 

 But more for Heavenly promise free, 

 That I who was, would shrink to be 

 That happy child again. 



ELIZABETH BAEEETT BBOWNINQ. 



A FORSAKEN GARDEN 



IN a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland, 

 At the sea-down's edge between windward and 



lee, 

 Walled round with rocks as an inland island, 



The ghost of a garden fronts the sea. 

 A girdle of brushwood and thorn encloses 



The steep square slope of the blossomless bed 

 Where the weeds that grew green from the graves 



of its roses 

 Now lie dead. 



The fields fall southward, abrupt and broken, 

 To the low last edge of the long lone land. 

 If a step should sound or a word be spoken, 



Would a ghost not rise at the 'strange guest's 



hand ? 

 So long have the grey bare walls lain guestless, 



Through branches and briars if a man make way, 

 He shall find no life but the sea-wind's, restless 

 Night and day. 



P 



