|ELCore.Net > Poetry > Catholic Poets > Poems of Alice Meynell|
My heart shall be thy garden. Come, my own,|
Into thy garden; thine be happy hours
Among my fairest thoughts, my tallest flowers,
From root to crowning petal thine alone.
Thine is the place from where the seeds are sown|
Up to the sky enclosed, with all its showers.
But ah, the birds, the birds! Who shall build bowers
To keep these thine? O friend, the birds have flown.
For as these come and go, and quit our pine|
To follow the sweet season, or, new-comers,
Sing one song only from our alder-trees,
My heart has thoughts, which, though thine eyes hold mine,|
Flit to the silent world and other summers,
With wings that dip beyond the silver seas.
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Lane Core Jr. (email@example.com)
Created April 11, 2001; not revised.