Garden Shadows

When the dawn winds whisper To the standing corn, And the rose of morning From the dark is born, All my shadowy garden Seems to grow aware Of a fragrant presence, Half expected there.

In the golden shimmer Of the burning noon, When the birds are silent And the poppies swoon, Once more I behold her Smile and turn her face, With its infinite regard, Its immortal grace.

When the twilight silvers Every nodding flower, And the new moon hallows The first evening hour, Is it not her footfall Down the garden walks, Where the drowsy blossoms Slumber on their stalks?

In the starry quiet, When the soul is free, And a vernal message Stirs the lilac tree, Surely I have felt her Pass and brush my cheek, With the eloquence of love That does not need to speak!