WHEN I am in my garden I am a monk of old Illuminating missals With blue and green and gold. In cunning burnish'd letters He wrote the Name of God, In daffodils and tulips I print it on the sod. When I am in my garden I am of Aaron's race, A Levite, a precentor Who, in a holy place, For God's sake and for music's At Matins, Nones, and Prime, Sets every psalm and anthem To fitting tune and time. When I am in my garden I am the bridegroom's friend, With charge of all the jewels That he delights to send; The turquoise myosotis, Narcissus, ruby-eyed, Imperial crowns of amber— I bear them to the bride. When I am in my garden My heart's a truant lark, My humbler limbs bend earthward, I sing and serve till dark; And when God takes the candle I rise from off my knee And hear the odours breathing The Name I cannot see. When I am in my garden I am a monk of old, Illuminating missals With blue and green and gold. In cunning burnish'd letters He wrote the Name of God, In basil sweet and mignonette I print it on the sod. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOROTHY'S DOWER by PHOEBE CARY THREE GRAINS OF CORN; THE IRISH FAMINE by AMELIA BLANDFORD EDWARDS STANZAS; HOOD'S LAST POEM by THOMAS HOOD GARDEN DAYS: 2. NEST EGGS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE WOUND-DRESSER by WALT WHITMAN WRITTEN IN BUTLER'S SERMONS by MATTHEW ARNOLD |