In a Garden
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ushing from the mouths of stone menTo spread at ease under the skyIn granite-lipped basins,Where iris dabble their feetAnd rustle to a passing wind,The water fills the garden with its rushing,In the midst of the quiet of close-clipped lawns. Damp smell the ferns in tunnels of stone,Where trickle and plash the fountains,Marble fountains, yellowed with much water. Splashing down moss-tarnished stepsIt falls, the water;And the air is throbbing with it.With its gurgling and running.With its leaping, and deep, cool murmur. And I wished for night and you.I wanted to see you in the swimming-pool,White and shining in the silver-flecked water.While the moon rode over the garden,High in the arch of night,And the scent of the lilacs was heavy with stillness. Night, and the water, and you in your whiteness, bathing! A Tulip Garden Guarded within the old red wall's embrace,Marshalled like soldiers in gay company,The tulips stand arrayed. Here infantryWheels out into the sunlight. What bold graceSets off their tunics, white with crimson lace!Here are platoons of gold-frocked cavalry,With scarlet sabres tossing in the eyeOf purple batteries, every gun in place.Forward they come, with flaunting colours spread,With torches burning, stepping out in timeTo some quick, unheard march. Our ears are dead,We cannot catch the tune. In pantomimeParades that army. With our utmost powersWe hear the wind stream through a bed of flowers. [End of original text.]
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