I own a solace shut within my heart, A garden full of many a quaint delight And warm with drowsy, poppied sunshine; bright, Flaming with lilies out of whose cups dart Shining things With powdered wings. Here terrace sinks to terrace, arbors close The ends of dreaming paths; a wanton wind Jostles the half-ripe pears, and then, unkind, Tumbles a-slumber in a pillar rose, With content Grown indolent. By night my garden is o'erhung with gems Fixed in an onyx setting. Fireflies Flicker their lanterns in my dazzled eyes. In serried rows I guess the straight, stiff stems Of hollyhocks Against the rocks. So far and still it is that, listening, I hear the flowers talking in the dawn; And where a sunken basin cuts the lawn, Cinctured with iris, pale and glistening, The sudden swish Of a waking fish. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HYMN TO THE NIGHT by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW TO SCIENCE; SONNET by EDGAR ALLAN POE TO THE DAISY (3) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH LITTLE GREGORY by THEODORE BOTREL RED COTTON NIGHT-CAP COUNTRY; OR, TURF AND TOWERS: PART 2 by ROBERT BROWNING THE HAND IN THE DARK by ADA CAMBRIDGE TO THE KING, AT HIS ENTRANCE INTO SAXHAM, BY MASTER JOHN CROFTS by THOMAS CAREW |