Sorrow in a Garden

Here to this ancient garden When wintry days had flown I came, with Comrade Sorrow To dwell with her alone. Within this sweet seclusion Far from the world’s rude stare What exquisite communings Sorrow and I would share! What banquets of remembrance, What luxury of tears With Sorrow in a garden Through the rose scented years! But one day when she called me I did not hear her voice; I only heard the lilies Which sang, Rejoice! Rejoice! For June was in the garden And June was in my heart,⁠— I had forgot pale Sorrow And now we dwell apart. But often in the twilight When birds and gardens sleep I feel her presence with me Her arms about me creep. And when the ghost of Summer With the dead roses talks I hear her softly sobbing Along the moon-lit walks. I never can forget her So intimate were we But when I walk my garden She comes no more to me.