THE VOW OF THE PEACOCK.
39
And such a memory thou hast stirred
Within my heart, enchanted bird!
I see a little garden nook,
It has a lorn deserted look;
Conscious of better days, and pride
To its neglected state denied:
Yet is it lovely, or to me
Lovely at least it seemed to be.
Laurels stood shining in the sun—
A golden green, half light, half gloom;
Some early flowers to seed had run,
But some were only just in bloom;
And straggling over path and bed,
The careless ones shone white and red.
Spoilt children they, who wander on
Till summer and themselves are gone.
