Classic Poem

Dear little garden, where each flower is fragrant—
Happy with sun, embowered in the rose—
My thoughts, like homing winds no longer vagrant,
Sigh with content and nestle to repose.

Dear little garden, where all birds are singing,
Each hour is morn, and every season best,
My hopes, long winter migrant, southward winging,
Find here their harbor—sun, and song, and nest!