The path runs straight between the flowering rows, A moonlit path, hemmed in by beds of bloom, Where phlox and marigolds dispute for room With tall, red dahlias and the briar rose. 'T is reckless prodigality which throws Into the night these wafts of rich perfume Which sweep across the garden like a plume. Over the trees a single bright star glows. Dear garden of my childhood, here my years Have run away like little grains of sand; The moments of my life, its hopes and fears Have all found utterance here, where now I stand; My eyes ache with the weight of unshed tears, You are my home, do you not understand? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHITE NOCTURNE by CONRAD AIKEN JONES'S PRIVATE ARGYMENT by SIDNEY LANIER HOW THE GREAT GUEST CAME by EDWIN MARKHAM BOOTH'S PHILIPPI by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE UNDERGRADUATE KILLED IN BATTLE; OXFORD, 1915 by GEORGE SANTAYANA |