A mighty potentate,

And marshals nobly, proudly into line,

Whilst lilacs sway in wind and rushing breeze,

Bowing and nodding to some poplar trees.

But stay!—

You would not care

To visit there

Midst such surroundings grey.

My Garden's but an oasis of hope

Set in the frown[Pg 16]

[Pg 16]

And dismal grandeur of a grim old town,

A semblance merely of the lawns you see;

A hint, an echo of the things that be!

But he or she would be a misanthrope

Who would not share my garden hope with me.

[Pg 17]

[Pg 17]

My Garden, 1918

Such was my garden once, a Springtide hope of flowers,

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