Classic Poem

There once was a garden with lofty walls,
With trees and flowers and waters fair.
Bright insects hummed; and the soft love-calls
Of rare-hued birds on the drowsy air.

At morning and evening were heard. And here
It always was summer. There seemed to be
A balm in the air, and a sky as clear
As bends o'er the lakes of Italy.

It was in an enchanted land; for not
On the earth has a garden like this e'er been:
The dreamer alone has seen the spot,
Or ever an entrance to such might win.

Within this garden a woman dwelt,
Ringed round by the walls as the years went by
And the hours as they passed her so lovingly dealt
They but ripened the beauty that could not die.

The subtle grace of the lissome trees
Sways in her form and each perfect limb;
And the deepest sky in the pools she sees
Gleams from her eye o'er the long-lashed brim.

The rippling waters and soughing winds
But echo her laughter or wistful sighs.
Each day is happy, except as she finds
A wondering, half-felt longing arise; —

A longing for what she knows not. But he,
Who wanders and waits outside, dares hope
His whisper might tell her, if it could be
That some day the strong-barred gate might ope.

But high is the wall, and the gates shut fast, —
Strong walls of old custom, and gates of law;
And his heart still aches as the days go past,
And no hand the fastening bolts undraw.