THE GARDEN

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CYCLOPEAN WALLS

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There's an ancient, ancient garden that I see sometimes in dreams
Where the very Maytime sunlight plays and glows with spectral gleams
Where the gaudy-tinted blossoms seem to wither into grey
And the crumbling walls and pillars waken thoughts of yesterday

There are vines in nooks and crannies, and there's moss about the pool
And the tangled weedy thicket chokes the arbour dark and cool
In the silent sunken pathways springs a herbage sparse and spare
Where the musty scent of dead things dulls the fragrance of the air

There is not a living creature in the lonely space around
And the hedge-encompass'd quiet never echoes to a sound
As I walk, and wait, and listen, I will often seek to find
When it was I knew that garden in an age long left behind

I will oft conjure a vision of a day that is no more
As I gaze upon the grey, grey scenes I feel I knew before
Then a sadness settles o'er me, and a tremor seems to start 
For I know the flowers are shrivell'd hopes
The garden is my heart

 Watch: New Singing Lesson Videos Can Make Anyone A Great Singer