FROM the warm garden in the summer night All faintest odors came: the tuberose white Glimmered in its dark bed, and many a bloom Invisibly breathed spices on the gloom. It stirred a trouble in the man's dull heart, A vexing, mute unrest: "Now what thou art, Tell me!" he said in anger. Something sighed, "I am the poor ghost of a ghost that died In years gone by." And he recalled of old A passion dead -- long dead, even then -- that came And haunted many a night like this, the same In their dim hush above the fragrant mould And glimmering flowers, and troubled all his breast. "Rest!" then he cried; "perturbed spirit, rest!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHERE SHALL THE BABY'S DIMPLE BE? by JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND THE COMING OF SPRING by NORA PERRY IDYLLS OF THE KING: THE LAST TOURNAMENT by ALFRED TENNYSON A MORNING AFTER MOURNING by WILLIAM BASSE A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 23 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |