DAYS IN MY GARDEN 



everywhere we walk, the rose-red thyme with bruised 

 sweetness, filling the air and taking our minds away 

 to gorse and bree/y heather hills sea-girt, and making 

 us see the things which are not there, but which live 

 in the memories awakened by its perfume. 



' ONLY OUR CLOSE-BIT THYME THAT SMELLS 

 LIKE DAWN IN PARADISE' 



140 



