I MOVE AND WARN 



Sleep of every kind unshaken, 

 Till our summer bids us waken." 



Then toward some far-off goal that singing 



drew; 



Then altogether cried ; more steely blue 

 The blue star shone; but in my spirit grew 

 Hope of Summer, love of Roses, 

 Certainty that Sorrow closes. 



PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON. 



To a Garden 



Oh, happy Eden! where I roam'd of yore 

 In that sweet innocence I long for now, 

 No childish innocence of fruited bough, 



For I had bit my apple to the core, 



But when the golden fruit seem'd doubly sweet, 

 (Unlike the tempter of a bygone day), 

 A serpent came, and bade me fling away 



What once he bade those first poor lovers eat. 



[229] 



