WITHIN the convent garden, at the dusk Of day, when the pale yellow primrose blows, And mignonette and violets and musk Make fragrant all the garden's sweet repose, Near where a wild-rose, trained along the wall Of mossy stones, lets blossoms pink and sweet In tangled masses through a crevice fall, A nun reclines upon a carven seat. Her long white robes just touch the lavender That borders all the pathways, which the breeze Has carpeted with petals pale and fair, Blown like a petal snow from almond trees. And through the garden's hush there comes the song Of two gold-throated nightingales who seem To sing their hearts out all the evening long, Near where the roses on the old wall dream. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...STORIES ARE MADE OF MISTAKES by JAMES GALVIN INEVITABLY (2) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON QUEST by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MERELY STATEMENT by AMY LOWELL IN WALKED BUD WITH A PALETTE by CLARENCE MAJOR |