I mind me in ted,
en underneathe sun
ito run
to a garden long deserted.
te;
And he spade,
t grasses Nature laid
to sanctify .
I called the place my wilderness,
For no one entered t I;
to espy,
And passed it neertheless.
trees erwoven wild,
And spread t
to keep bot,
But not a happy child.
Adventurous joy it was for me!
I crept beneathe boughs, and found
A circle smooth of mossy ground
Beneatree.
Old garden rose-trees in,
Bedropt e
ell satisfied
And careless to be seen.
Long years ago it might befall,
rim,
the grave old gardener prided him
On t of all.
Some lady, stately overmuch,
h a silken noise,
the voice
t likened o such.
And to make a diadem,
Sen may wined,
came to mind
t fe them.
Otle t t lady proud,
A cce rose,
er brows,
And silk was changed for shroud!
Nor t t gardener, (full of scorns
For men unlearned and simple phrase,)
A c all its praise
By creeping thorns!
to me upon my lo,
t
Of science or loves compliment,
I as s.
It did not move my grief to see
trace of ep departed:
Because ted,
ther place for me!
Friends, blame me not! a narrow ken
the sun and sward;
e draerward,
e feel then.
And gladdest hours for me did glide
In silence at tree wall:
A thrush made gladness musical
Upon ther side.
Nor he nor I did eer incline
to peck or pluck te;
roses might
Lead lives as glad as mine?
to make my -e,
I brouger from the spring
Praised in its own low murmuring,
And cresses glossy .
And so, I t, my likeness grew
(it tale)
to Gentle of the Dale,
And Angelina too.
For oft I read hin my nook
Sucrel stories; till the breeze
Made sounds poetic in trees,
And t the book.
If I s te
I
trees, nor feel t c
Delig.
My ced,
My footstep from the moss which drew
Its fairy circle round: anew
ted.
Anothere rehearse
test are;
No more for me! myself afar
Do sing a sadder verse.
A I lay
In t c so greenly ,
I laugo myself and t
time will pass away.
And still I laug fear
But t, w away
time, some happier play
My womanhood would cheer.
I kneime would pass away,
And yet, beside tree wall,
Dear God, all,
Did I look up to pray!
time is past; and no grows
trees,
And I bee sepulchres
As e rose, --
s are given,
And I to lift my face,
Reminded place
the color draws from heaven, --
It somethly pain,
But more for heavenly promise free,
t I wo be
t happy child again.