XXVIII THE GARDENS OF THE SOUL

In a restless land beside a river Stands a stone enclosure tall, Rich the finder is, and rich the giver Of the key to pierce that wall.

Once within, you drink the clearest pleasures, And your sorrow change for ease; Ancient bards enchant you with their measures, Sweetly sighs the Highland breeze.

Next amid the orange trees and cedars Bearded Homer deigns to roam, Musing tales of marching Argive leaders, And Ulysses welcomed home.

Here where daffodils their crowns are bending On a lawn of English green, Milton gravely sits to tell the ending Of angelic strifes unseen.

Here the almond bloom for ever blushes, And Italian fountains rise; While the wine of dawn their dewdrops flushes, Dante speaks of Paradise.

But beyond where any poet paces, Grows a gnarled grey olive grove, Where the furthest stars have veiled their faces, Weeping for eternal Love.