IT is here—the lime-tree in the garden path, The lilac by the wall, the ivied wall That was so high, the heavy, close-leaved creeper, The harsh gate jarring on its hinges still, The echoing clean flags—all The same, the same, and never more the same. That mound was once a hill, The old lime-tree a forest (now as small As the poor lilac by the ivied wall), And this neglected narrow greenery A wilderness, and I its king and keeper; Lying upon the grass I saw the sky And all its clouds: the garden edged the sky. The harsh gate jars upon its hinges still. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO AN AEOLIAN HARP by SARA TEASDALE THE CRYSTAL CABINET by WILLIAM BLAKE A SERMON AT CLEVEDON; GOOD FRIDAY by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN FESTOONS OF FISHES by ALFRED FRANCIS KREYMBORG A FOREIGN RULER by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR |