IN PRAISE OF GARDENS 



In the darkness shapes of things, 

 Houses, trees, and hedges, 



Clearer grow ; and sparrow's wings 

 Beat on window ledges. 



These shall w r ake the yawning made; 



She the door shall open 

 Finding dew on garden glade 



And the morning broken. 



There my garden grows again 



Green and rosy painted, 

 As at eve behind the pane 



From my eyes it fainted. 



Just as it was shut away, 



Toylike, in the even, 

 Here I see it glow with day 



Under glowing heaven. 



Every path and every plot, 



Every bush of roses, 

 Every blue forget-me-not, 



Where the dew reposes. 



[132] 



