The Garden - I Monster

There’s an ancient, ancient garden

That I see sometimes in dreams

Where the very Maytime sunlight plays

And glows with spectral gleams

Where the gaudy-tinted blossoms

Seem to wither into grey

And the crumbling walls and pillars

Waken thoughts of yesterday

There are vines in nooks and crannies

And there’s moss about the pool

And the tangled weedy thicket

Chokes the arbour dark and cool:

In the silent sunken pathways

Springs an herbage sparse and spare

Where the musty scent of dead things

Dulls the fragrance of the air

There is not a living creature

In the lonely space around

And the hedge-encompass'd quiet

Never echoes to a sound

As I walk, and wait, and listen

I will often seek to find

When it was I knew that garden

In an age long left behind

I will oft conjure a vision

Of a day that is no more

As I gaze upon the grey, grey scenes

I feel I knew before

Then a sadness settles o’er me

And a tremor seems to start:

For I know the flow’rs are shrivell’d hopes—

The garden is my heart!