tl IN PRAISE OF GARDENS 



What a name! Was it love or praise? 



Speech half-asleep or song half-awake? 

 I must learn Spanish, one of these days, 



Only for that low sweet name's sake. 



IV 



Roses, if I live and do well, 



I may bring her, one of these days, 

 To fix you fast with as fine a spell, 



Fit you each with his Spanish phrase; 

 But do not detain me now ; for she lingers 



There, like sunshine over the ground, 

 And ever I see her soft white fingers 



Searching after the bud she found. 



Flower, you Spaniard, look that you grow not, 



Stay as you are and be loved for ever! 

 Bud, if I kiss you 'tis that you blow not: 



Mind, the sweet pink mouth opens never! 

 For while it pouts, her fingers wrestle, 



Twinkling the audacious leaves between, 

 Till round they turn and down they nestle 



Is not the dear mark still to be seen? 



[84] 



