IN AN OLD TOWN GARDEN

SHUT from the clamor of the street By an old wall with lichen grown, It holds apart from jar and fret A peace and beauty all its own.

The freshness of the springtime rains And dews of morning linger here;

It holds the glow of summer noons And ripest twilights of the year.

Above its bloom the evening stars Look down at closing of the day, And in its sweet and shady walks Winds spent with roaming love to stray,

Upgathering to themselves the breath Of wide-blown roses white and red,

The spice of musk and lavender Along its winding alleys shed.

Outside are shadeless, troubled streets

And souls that quest for gold and gain, Lips that have long forgot to smile

And hearts that burn and ache with pain.

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