English poem
Madrigal
by Olive Custance (1874–1944)
Rare garden where my heart goes gathering Many a lovely and delightful thing, Pale roses of your body and the fair Unrivalled yellow blossoms of your hair!
Tall lilies of your gay and careless grace, And O the wistful flower of your face! And all the soft and starry mysteries Of those divine forget-me-nots, your eyes …
O come, fair Love, before the flowers fade, And bless this garden that the gods have made … Rare garden where my heart goes gathering Many a lovely and delightful thing …