Last Night in the Garden

Upon the gravel paths, the shadows sprawl, Sweet perfumes wander and bind the trees, And quiet seems to beckon them all, To lay upon the soil in breathing ease.

Summer’s breath lingers like a distant song, While moonlit dew settles soft on spray, And still, the night sounds call both weakly and strong, If just to ponder where the past once lay.

And as you heed the whispers within this gloom, Know that the night is a breath long held, Cradled by the hands of an ancient bloom, And all the world waits, quiet and quelled.

• John Crowe Ransom