Sunday Poem: Henry Austin Dobson – A Garden Song

Henry Austin Dobson. b. 1840
A Garden Song
HERE in this sequester’d close  
Bloom the hyacinth and rose,  
Here beside the modest stock  
Flaunts the flaring hollyhock;  
Here, without a pang, one sees          5
Ranks, conditions, and degrees.  
All the seasons run their race  
In this quiet resting-place;  
Peach and apricot and fig  
Here will ripen and grow big;   10
Here is store and overplus,—  
More had not Alcinoüs!  
Here, in alleys cool and green,  
Far ahead the thrush is seen;  
Here along the southern wall   15
Keeps the bee his festival;  
All is quiet else—afar  
Sounds of toil and turmoil are.  
Here be shadows large and long;  
Here be spaces meet for song;   20
Grant, O garden-god, that I,  
Now that none profane is nigh,—  
Now that mood and moment please,—  
Find the fair Pierides!

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