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 enclosed, 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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...QUEST by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BUCOLIC COMEDY: FOX TROT by EDITH SITWELL THE CONTRETEMPS by THOMAS HARDY THE FACTORY; 'TIS AN ACCURSED THING! by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON AN HORATIAN ODE UPON CROMWELL'S RETURN FROM IRELAND by ANDREW MARVELL SONNET: DEATH-WARNINGS by FRANCISCO GOMEZ DE QUEVEDO Y VILLEGAS THE WALLABOUT MARTYRS by WALT WHITMAN |