I CHANCED upon the little bowered retreat For the first time, and never shall forget The spell of tangled mystery! The wet Bejeweled leaves like fingers curled to meet My childish hand; the unimagined sweet Of briar, heliotrope, and mignonette; The tang of box, and quainter blossoms set By mazy paths for liliputian feet. High walls of hollyhock and morning-glory Concealed the ancient house with gables wide; Shut out the world of swift and merry hours. In the long silence of a fairy-story My heart stood still. Then, at a turn I spied My Mother, smiling at the other flowers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BATTLE OF THE KEGS by FRANCIS HOPKINSON DIRGE FOR THE LATE JAMES CURRIE, M.D., OF LIVERPOOL by LUCY AIKEN AT ONE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE ASOLANDO: THE POPE AND THE NET by ROBERT BROWNING TO A CHILD by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR SMECTYMNUUS, OR THE CLUB-DIVERS by JOHN CLEVELAND OLNEY HYMNS: 29. EXHORTATION TO PRAYER by WILLIAM COWPER |