IN DOVE COTTAGE GARDEN 261 



But I marked one quiet casement 



Ivy-covered still. 

 There he sat, I think, and loved this 



Little hill ; 



Loved the rocky stair that led him 



Upward to the seat 

 Coleridge fashioned ; loved the fragrant, 



High retreat 



In the wood above the garden. 



There he walked, and there 

 In his heart the beauty gathered 



To a prayer. 



Looking down into the garden, 



I can seem to see, 

 In among her Christmas roses, 



Dorothy. 



Deeper joy and truer service, 



Fuller draught of life, 

 Came, I doubt not, to the sister 



And the wife. 



And one patient robin-redbreast, 



Waiting, waiting long, 

 Seals the twilight in the garden 



With a song. 



PHILIP H. SAVAGE. 



