_The Haunted Garden_

There a tattered marigold And dead asters manifold, Showed him where the garden old Of time bloomed: Briar and thistle overgrew Corners where the rose once blew, Where the phlox of every hue Lay entombed.

Here a coreopsis flower Pushed its disc above a bower, Where once poured a starry shower, Bronze and gold: And a twisted hollyhock, And the remnant of a stock, Struggled up, 'mid burr and dock, Through the mold.

Flower-pots, with mossy cloak, Strewed a place beneath an oak, Where the garden-bench lay broke By the tree: And he thought of her, who here Sat with him but yesteryear; Her, whose presence now seemed near Stealthily.

And the garden seemed to look For her coming. Petals shook On the spot where, with her book, Oft she sat.-- Suddenly there blew a wind: And across the garden blind, Like a black thought in a mind, Stole a cat.

Lean as hunger; like the shade Of a dream; a ghost unlaid; Through the weeds its way it made, Gaunt and old: Once 't was hers. He looked to see If she followed to the tree.-- Then recalled how long since she Had been mold.