The Darkening Garden
Where have all the colours gone?
Red of roses, green of grass,
Brown of tree-trunk, gold of cowslip,
Pink of poppy, blue of cornflower,
Who among you saw them pass?
They have gone to make the sunset
Broidered on the western sky,
All the colours of our garden,
Woven into a lovely curtain,
O'er the bed where Day doth lie.
Red of roses, green of grass,
Brown of tree-trunk, gold of cowslip,
Pink of poppy, blue of cornflower,
Who among you saw them pass?
They have gone to make the sunset
Broidered on the western sky,
All the colours of our garden,
Woven into a lovely curtain,
O'er the bed where Day doth lie.
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