MY garden fountain sings to-night, Its margin is all moist with spray, -- That snow-white marble margin where A white rose dreams of drooping day. Upon the rose fall rhythmic drops, Snow-cool from the pale fountain's crest, -- Drops cooler than the shadows when The sun leads day-spring to the west. Unto the rose, my fountain's rim Is ample joy, while I, through tears, Can see my garden growing dim, And dream of sorrow's girding spheres. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE AUTHOR OF TEUCHSA GRONDIE by LEVI BISHOP TO CLARE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN MOONRISE IN THE ROCKIES by ROUTH PICKETT BRADLEY THE MAN OF THE MARNE by BLISS CARMAN VIA CRUCIS, VIA LUCIS by PHOEBE CARY THE CRAB TREE by CAROLINE CLIVE |