The Lost Garden

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.