IN PRAISE OF GARDENS 



When lilacs last in the door-yard bloom'd, 

 And the great star early droop'd in the western 



sky in the night, 

 I mourn'd and yet shall mourn with ever-re- 



turning spring. 



O ever-returning spring! trinity sure to me you 



bring! 

 Lilac blooming perennial, and drooping star in 



the west, 

 And thought of him I love. 



In the door-yard fronting an old farm-house, 



near the white-wash'd palings, 

 Stands the lilac bush, tall-growing, with heart- 



shaped leaves of rich green, 

 With many a pointed blossom, rising, delicate, 



with the perfume strong I love, 

 With every leaf a miracle . . . and from this 



bush in the door-yard, 

 With delicate-color'd blossoms, and heart-shaped 



leaves of rich green, 

 A sprig, with its flower, I break. 



In the swamp, in secluded recesses, 



A shy and hidden bird is warbling a song. 



[192] 



