X T^ESTURED and veiled with twilight, 
^ Lulled in the winter’s ease, 
Dim, and happy, and silent, 
My garden dreams by its trees. 
Urn of the sprayless fountain. 
Glimmering nymph and faun, 
Gleam through the dark-plumed cedar, 
Fade on the dusky lawn. 
Here is no stir of summer, 
Here is no pulse of spring; 
Never a bud to bourgeon, 
Never a bird to sing. 
Dreams—and the kingdom of quiet! 
Only the dead leaves lie 
Over the fallen roses 
Under the shrouded sky. 
Folded and fenced with silence, 
Mindless of moil and mart, 
It is twilight here in my garden, 
And twilight here in my heart. 
