Here moving with a silken noise,

And yet, beside the rose-tree wall,

My childhood from my life is parted,

To "Gentle Hermit of the Dale,"

That I who was, would shrink to be

And I behold white sepulchres

To keep both sheep and shepherd out,

As well as the white rose, --

But that, wheneer was past away

I ween they smelt as sweet.

I brought dear water from the spring

That happy child again.

The grave old gardener prided him

I hear no more the wind athwart

Oh, little thought that lady proud,

The greenest grasses Nature laid

To me upon my low moss seat,

I laughed unto myself and thought

Did I look up to pray九九藏書!

And these, to make a diadem,

The sheep looked in, the grass to espy,

The madrigals which sweetest are;

And spread their boughs enough about

When buried lay her whiter brows,

The childish time, some happier play

We draw the moral afterward,

Dear God, how seldom, if at all,

But more for Heavenly promise free,

By creeping through the thorns!

When all the garden flowers were trim,

Well satisfied with dew and light

Those trees, nor feel that childish heart

We feel the gladness then.

Ah me, ah me! when erst I lay

Has childhood twixt the sun and sward;

Such minstrel stories; till the breeze

How often underne九_九_藏_書ath the sun

I called the place my wilderness,

To peck or pluck the blossoms white;

And passed it neertheless.

And still I laughed, and did not fear

In silence at the rose-tree wall:

The blither place for me!

My footstep from the moss which drew

Adventurous joy it was for me!

Delighting in delight.

How should I know but roses might

And Angelina too.

She often may have plucked and twined,

That likened her to such.

Bedropt with roses waxen-white

Reminded how earths greenest place

It did not move my grief to see

Praised in its own low murmuring,

In that childs-nest so greenly wrought,

On these the most of all.

九*九*藏*書The cypress high among the trees,

No more for me! myself afar

Nor thought that gardener, (full of scorns

Friends, blame me not! a narrow ken

My womanhood would cheer.

A child would bring it all its praise

For no one entered there but I;

Nor he nor I did eer incline

I crept beneath the boughs, and found

I knew the time would pass away,

Long years ago it might befall,

A circle smooth of mossy ground

It something saith for earthly pain,

"The time will pass away."

For men unlearned and simple phrase,)

Some lady, stately overmuchttps://read.99csw.comh,

The beds and walks were vanished quite;

A child would watch her fair white rose,

Because the garden was deserted,

Beneath a poplar tree.

Half-smiling as it came to mind

The trace of human step departed:

And gladdest hours for me did glide

And silk was changed for shroud!

The color draws from heaven, --

That few would look at them.

Made sounds poetic in the trees,

To a garden long deserted.

And so, I thought, my likeness grew

But not a happy child.

Though never a dream the roses sent

I mind me in the days departed,

To make my hermit-home complete,

For oft I read within my nook

Lead lives as glad as mine?

Its fairhttps://read.99csw.comy circle round: anew

And I have learnt to lift my face,

And careless to be seen.

Do sing a sadder verse.

A thrush made gladness musical

Old garden rose-trees hedged it in,

Of science or loves compliment,

(Without the melancholy tale)

The trees were interwoven wild,

Another thrush may there rehearse

To sanctify her right.

If I shut this wherein I write

The garden is deserted.

And wheresoeer had struck the spade,

With childish bounds I used to run

Upon the other side.

When graver, meeker thoughts are given,

The time is past; and now that grows

Has blushed beside them at the voice

And cresses glossy wet.

And then I shut the book.