Sometimes, when the grind of the city beats on my heart Like a brazen hammer with terrible blows, I think of a lost garden I knew in my boyhood, Filled with the scent of the rose. And sometimes, when the clamor of life seems endless, And my soul is bowed with its weight of pain, I think of an old, still apple tree in blossom At the end of a hawthorn lane. Oh, do not smile at such simple memories! They keep us young, they keep the man-heart right. And sometime we will all go back contented, To a Garden and a Tree in a place of light. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WIND AT THE DOOR by WILLIAM BARNES FOUR-LEAF CLOVER by ELLA (RHOADS) HIGGINSON ODE TO THE CONNECTICUT RIVER by JOSIAS LYNDON ARNOLD A DIALOGUE (FOR A BASE AND TWO TREBLES) by JOSEPH BEAUMONT DOMINUS VINAEAE; SPIRITUS AGRICOLA by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH A PIPE OF TOBACCO (MR. PHILLIP'S STYLE IMITATED) by ISAAC HAWKINS BROWNE |