I was such a quaint old garden And was kept so lovingly For my mother was its warden. And each new bright morning found her Like some pale and slender flower With her green friends all around her. Every walk was laid with neatness, Edged with moss or dusty-miller Or white pinks of spicy sweetness. There the royal purple pansy Looked with scorn upon his neighbors -- Camomile and sage and tansy. Summer brought old fashioned posies: Mourning brides, and phlox and lilies, Candytuft, bluebells and roses. Autumn . . . . how my heart beats faster . . . . When I think of all its beauty . . . . When I see the purple aster. Grief can chill the warmest hours, She has found another garden . . . . In her arms are purple flowers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE WOMAN by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE NIGHT MOTHS by EDWIN MARKHAM THE PLACE OF PEACE by EDWIN MARKHAM A MAN CHILD IS BORN (1809) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SONNET (6) by GEORGE SANTAYANA CATARINA TO CAMOENS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |