Speak not -- whisper not; Here bloweth thyme and bergamot; Softly on the evening hour, Secret herbs their spices shower. Dark-spiked rosemary and myrrh, Lean-stalked purple lavender; Hides within her bosom, too, All her sorrows, bitter rue. Breathe not -- trespass not; Of this green and darkling spot, Latticed from the moon's beams, Perchance a distant dreamer dreams; Perchance upon its darkening air, The unseen ghosts of children fare, Faintly swinging, sway and sweep, Like lovely sea-flowers in the deep; While, unmoved, to watch and ward, Amid its gloomed and daisied sward, Stands with bowed and dewy head That one little leaden Lad. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ASOLANDO: NOW by ROBERT BROWNING THE SCRIBE by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE THE BONNIE BLUE FLAG by ANNIE CHAMBERS KETCHUM THE INDIAN'S WELCOME TO THE PILGRIM FATHERS by LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY |