BROAD, high yew hedges flank the flowers, and border An old, smooth lawn where, fashioned grimly stiff, Two knights—in close-clipped box—keep ancient order, O'er shaven dragon, hound and hippogriff; And there, When the June air At dusk is cool and fair, And the great roses strengthen on their stalks, Down the long path, beset With heaven-scented, haunting mignonette, The gardeners say, A little grey Ghost-lady walks! I haven't seen her, haven't heard her legend, Pale little shade, only the rumour tells That 'tis her wont to wander to the hedge-end, And vanish near the Canterbury Bells; And so I do not know What sends her to and fro— Murder, may be, or broken heart, or gold. I like to fancy most That she is just some little lady's ghost Who loved her flowers And quiet hours In Junes of old! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COMET AT YELL'HAM by THOMAS HARDY DENIAL [OR, DENIALL] by GEORGE HERBERT ABOU BEN ADHEM by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT PICCIOLA by ROBERT HENRY NEWELL IDYLL 1. THE EPITAPH OF ADONIS by BION SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN: 32 by BLISS CARMAN |