IN PRAISE OF GARDENS 



For a breeze of morning moves 

 And the planet of love is on high, 



Beginning to faint in the light that she loves 

 On a bed of a daffodil sky, 



To faint in the light of the sun she loves, 

 To faint in his light, and to die. 



All night have the roses heard 



The flute, violin, bassoon; 

 All night has the casement jessamine stirred 



To the dancers dancing in tune; 

 Till a silence fell with the waking bird, 



And a hush with the setting moon. 



I said to the lily, " There is but one 



With whom she has heart to be gay. 

 When will the dancers leave her alone? 



She is weary of dance and play." 

 Now half to the setting moon are gone, 



And half to the rising day; 

 Low on the sand and loud on the stone 



The last wheel echoes away. 



I said to the rose, " The brief night goes 

 In babble and revel and wine, 



[86] 



