UP and down my Garden the roses are a-revel; Up and down my Garden gleam golden butterflies. June-scent to the tree-tops floods the white air level, And June-sun to the rose-roots thrusts fingers warm and wise. O my red, red roses! my larkspurs and my lilies! (Yellow lilies leaning in a tangle and a swoon,) O, have you forgot me? for now the Garden still is, And no one treads the warm path I knew by night and noon. Red-rose-petals blowing, and rain-bleached in the grasses, -- Red-rose-petals slipping, slipping to be dead, -- Only wind may touch you: he hurts you as he passes: O, do you remember who kissed you once instead? -- Up and down my Garden my Spirit runs a-tiptoe, Stroking all the roses, chasing butterflies. But she may not gather one blighted bud. To slip so Empty from her Garden, blurs her shining eyes. Spirit! -- Spirit! -- Spirit! -- Home, come home and leave them: Leave the petals blowing like little weary flames. Lest your ghostly presence, your pulsing shadow grieve them: -- -- Yet 'tis you, you only, who know their dear lost names! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SINCERE FLATTERY OF R.B. by JAMES KENNETH STEPHEN THE GOLDEN YEAR! by ALFRED AUSTIN CALMNESS OF THE SUBLIME by PHILIP JAMES BAILEY THE WOLD WALL by WILLIAM BARNES THE WORLD'S RECORD by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |