The Garden Poem by Harriet Monroe
The Garden
Rating: ★2.9
Hiding under the hill,
Heavy with trailing robes and tangled veils of green,
Till only its little haggard face was visible,
The garden lay shy and wistful,
Lovelorn for summer departing,
Blowing its little trickling fountain tune into the air.
And over all, hushing, soothing,
Lay the clematis
Like early snow.
Friday, April 16, 2010
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4/25/2024 1:06:23 AM # 1.0.0.1119
