The Yew-Tree Walk.
Dusky-leaved and pruned to primness, pleasant was its green retreat,1
Where, within its dewy dimness, blue-eyed violets blossomed sweet ;2
While the poet’s idle fancies, as within its bowers he lay,3
Peopled it with fair romances, borrowed from a bygone day.4
Not by ruins, crumbling slowly, did its gloomy foliage wave,5
Nor where daisies, meek and lowly, smiled above a quiet grave,6
Where the lonely mourner, weeping, lingered late on twilight eves,7
With the night-bird vigil keeping, from her home amid the leaves ;8
But within a garden haunted by the sweetest flowers that grew,9
Where the tulips gaily flaunted gorgeous urns of rainbow hue ;10
Roses by the dial olden, budding redly one by one,11
Wide-rayed blossoms quaint and golden, turnng ever to the sun.12
Linnets warbled long and loudly from the bows that screened their nests,13
On the terrace, pacing proudly, peacocks sunned their royal crests ;14
While the wind-swept trees kept sighing, like a streamlet’s murmurings,15
And the doves in circles flying fanned the air with silver wings.16
Age, with winkled brow of sadness, sauntered slowly in its shade,17
Childhood, in its fearless gladness, underneath its branches played ;18
Lovers sought its green recesses when the moonlight shimmered bright,19
And low vows and soft caresses thrilled its mazes with delight.20
Here hath sorrow, heavy hearted, sped its shafts of silent prayer,21
Maiden, from her true love parted, strolled adown it full of care ;22
Still upon each brown stem linger names and mottoes half effaced,23
True love knots by sportive finger in some happy moment traced.24