Eight Bells 



swaying in the August breeze. It will 

 make you both happy and hungry. 

 I know because I have tried it, and 

 while dozing there until George an- 

 nounces dinner I have dreamed. 



A sheltered sunken garden by the sea 

 Where Flora and the sun-god met one day 

 To deck stone walls and granite gray 

 With roses rare and columbine; 

 A scene as fair as Iris-tinted morn. 

 Pan plays his pipes 'midst leafy bowers 

 Throughout long dreamy summer hours, 

 And ever, from remotest ocean caves, 

 Old Triton leaps and hoarsely winds his far- 

 resounding horn. 



And here within this charmed seclusion deep 



Sacred to all the household gods who keep 



Their steadfast watch by night, by day, 



O'er happiness and love and sweet content, 



A gentle spirit dwells! 



And if you seek and find the path 



That leads you rightly to her shrine 



You'll sense the fragrance of the Lotus-flower 



That blossoms there, 



And if your luck's as good as mine, 



And garden gods don't frown, 



You may be asked to stop and dine. 



