The Sunken Garden
Speak not - whisper not; Here bloweth thyme and bergamot; Softly on the evening hour, Secret herbs their spices shower. Dark-spiked rosemary and myrrh, Lean-stalked, purple lavender; Hides within her bosom, too, All her sorrows, bitter rue. Breathe not - trespass not; Of this green and darkling spot, Latticed from the moon's beams, Perchance a distant dreamer dreams; Perchance upon its darkening air, The unseen ghosts of children fare, Faintly swinging, sway and sweep, Like lovely sea-flowers in its deep; While, unmoved, to watch and ward, Amid its gloomed and daisied sward, Stands with bowed and dewy head That one little leaden Lad.
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"Speak not - whisper not;..."
Exploring the themes of classic, Walter De La Mare delivers a powerful performance in "The Sunken Garden"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...