The Lost Garden

By Madison Julius Cawein

Roses, brier on brier, Like a hedge of fire, Walled it from the world and rolled Crimson 'round it; manifold Blossoms, 'mid which once of old Walked my Heart's Desire. There the golden Hours Dwelt; and 'mid the bowers Beauty wandered like a maid; And the Dreams that never fade Sat within its haunted shade Gazing at the flowers. There the winds that vary Melody and marry Perfume unto perfume, went, Whispering to the buds, that bent, Messages whose wonderment Made them sweet to carry. There the waters hoary Murmured many a story To the leaves that leaned above, Listening to their tales of love, While the happiness thereof Flushed their green with glory. There the sunset's shimmer 'Mid the bowers, dimmer Than the woods where Fable dwells, And Romance her legends tells, Wrought dim dreams and dimmer spells, Filled with golden glimmer. There at night the wonder Of the moon would sunder Foliage deeps with breast of pearl, Wandering like a glimmering girl, Fair of form and bright of curl, Through the trees and under. There the stars would follow, Over hill and hollow, Spirit shapes that danced the dew From frail cups of sparry hue; Firefly forms that fleeter flew Than the fleetest swallow. There my heart made merry; There, 'mid bloom and berry, Dreamed the dreams that are no more, In that garden lost of yore, Set in seas, without a shore, That no man may ferry. Where perhaps her lyre, Wreathed with serest brier, Sorrow strikes now; sad its gold Sighing where, 'mid roses old, Fair of face and dead and cold Lies my Heart's Desire.