Classic Poem

The Garden

My heart shall be thy garden. Come, my own,
— Into thy garden; thine be happy hours
— Among my fairest thoughts, my tallest flowers,
From root to crowning petal, thine alone.
Thine is the place from where the seeds are sown
— Up to the sky inclosed, with all its showers.
— But ah, the birds, the birds! Who shall build bowers
To keep these thine? O friend, the birds have flown.

For as these come and go, and quit our pine
— To follow the sweet season, or, new-comers,
— — Sing one song only from our alder-trees,
My heart has thoughts, which, though thine eyes hold mine
— Flit to the silent world and other summers,
— — With wings that dip beyond the silver seas.English