21.06.2007, 21:25
PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON.
AUTHOR OF "GARDEN SECRETS."
HE, who those secrets whispered—he is dead—
No more the rose and lily shall confide
To him how faithless was the Wind that sighed
With fleeting love, rifled their bloom and fled;
The "Garden Fairies," by Titania led,
Ring no more chimes of rapture since he died;
And from unseen "Wind Gardens," where abide
The souls of blossoms, no sweet breath is shed.
His flowers and he have vanished: yet, who knows
Through what fair fields unwitnessed of the sun
He wanders, among blossoms red and white,
Fostered of Joy—where never chill blast blows,
And the glad year is always just begun?—
Nor Time, nor Death, immoral youth can blight.
AUTHOR OF "GARDEN SECRETS."
HE, who those secrets whispered—he is dead—
No more the rose and lily shall confide
To him how faithless was the Wind that sighed
With fleeting love, rifled their bloom and fled;
The "Garden Fairies," by Titania led,
Ring no more chimes of rapture since he died;
And from unseen "Wind Gardens," where abide
The souls of blossoms, no sweet breath is shed.
His flowers and he have vanished: yet, who knows
Through what fair fields unwitnessed of the sun
He wanders, among blossoms red and white,
Fostered of Joy—where never chill blast blows,
And the glad year is always just begun?—
Nor Time, nor Death, immoral youth can blight.