The Old Garden

In the old garden, in the soft bloom, The flowers present their gowns so bright,
As if to welcome, neath leafy plume, The whispering winds in twilight night.

To soothe the hearts lost in sorrow’s shade, The fruits upon the boughs hang low— Nature, sweet, a mother gently laid, Life enfolded in her gracious flow. —Sidney Lanier

• Sidney Lanier