Adventurous joy it was for me ! 

 I crept beneath the boughs, and found 

 A circle smooth of mossy ground 

 Beneath a poplar tree. 



Old garden rose-trees hedged it in, 

 Bedropt with roses waxen- white, 

 Well satisfied with dew and light 

 And careless to be seen. 



Long years ago it might befall, 

 When all the garden flowers were trim, 

 The grave old gardener prided him 

 On these the most of all. 



Some lady, stately overmuch. 

 Here moving with a silken noise. 

 Has blushed beside them at the voice 

 That hkened her to such. 



And these, to make a diadem. 

 She often may have plucked and twined, 

 Half smiling as it came to mind 

 That few would look at them. 



Oh, little thought that lady proud, 

 A child would watch her fair white rose. 

 When buried lay her whiter brows. 

 And silk was changed for shroud ! — 



Nor thought that gardener (full of scorns 

 For men unlearned and simple phrase), 

 A child would bring it all its praise 

 By creeping through the thorns ! 

 64 



