Part 1 — A DESERTED GARDEN.

Tangled ivy creeps and twines Where once bloomed my Lady’s flowers; And the twisting wild woodbines Weave o’er all their clustering bowers; And the fruit-trees from the wall Droop forgotten and forlorn, And the rose-trees, thick and tall, From their trellis-work are torn. Dewy paths—once velvet-smooth For the dainty steps of youth— Weedy now, and overgrown With the rank grass all unmown. Here and there, amid confusion, Gleams a berry scarlet-hued, And pale bindweed in profusion (By the summer breezes wooed), Creeps, where once verbenas grew, Or the myrtle flowered so fair In the warm and scented air; And the speedwell—deepest blue— Shakes its frail flowers everywhere. So, amid these paths—all haunted By the memory of old flowers— Grow these wild-wood blooms undaunted, Through the glowing autumn hours. Ah! how long ago it seems Since bright faces glowed and smiled In this garden of our dreams. Now so desolate and wild! They will come again no more, And no time shall e’er restore Golden days and fairy flowers To these wearied hearts of ours.