Page:The Yellow Book - 06.djvu/137

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A Song

Outside the hedge of roses 
 Which walls my garden round,
And many a flower encloses,
 Lies fresh unfurrowed ground.

I have not delved, nor planted,
 In that strange land, nor come
To sow in soil enchanted
 Sweet promises of bloom.

My labours all have ended
 Within my fragrant wall,
The blossoms I have tended
 Have grown so sweet and tall.

But now in silver showers
 Your laughter falls on me,
And fairer than all flowers
 Your flower-face I see.