IN the glimmering summer morning I pace the garden alone; The flowers are whisp'ring and speaking, But silently wander I on. The flowers are whisp'ring and speaking, My form with compassion they scan: O pray be kind to our sister, Thou mournful and pale-faced man! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SUICIDE by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON PINE-TREES AND THE SKY: EVENING by RUPERT BROOKE DE GUSTIBUS' by ROBERT BROWNING THE RUSTIC LAD'S LAMENT IN THE TOWN by DAVID MACBETH MOIR THE NOBLEMAN AND THE PENSIONER by GOTTLIEB KONRAD PFEFFEL TO AMERICA, ON HER FIRST SONS FALLEN IN THE GREAT WAR by E. M. WALKER |