If ever a garden was Gethsemane, with old tombs set high against the crumpled olive tree -- and lichen, this, my garden, has been to me. For such as I none other is so sweet: Lacking old tombs, here stands my grief, and certainly its ancient tree. Peace is here and in every season a quiet beauty. The sky falling about me Evenly to the compass . . . What is sorrow but tenderness now in this earth-close frame of land and sky falling constantly into horizons of east and west, north and south; what is pain but happiness here amid these green and wordless patterns, indefinite texture of blade and leaf: Beauty of an old, old tree, Last comfort in Gethsemane. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY AIN COUNTRIE by MARY LEE DEMAREST TO JANE: THE RECOLLECTION by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY SONG OF SLAVES IN THE DESERT by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER WHEN YOU ARE OLD by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE YOUNG CARPENTER by AL-RUSAFI RECOMPENSE by JESSE M. BALL ALLEN A NOVEL OF HIGH LIFE by THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY |