'I'm never alone in the garden,' he said. 'I'm <br /> never alone with the flowers. <br />It seems like I'm meeting the wonderful dead <br /> out here with these blossoms of ours. <br />An' there's never a bush or a plant or a tree, but <br /> somebody loved it of old. <br />An' the souls of the angels come talkin' to me <br /> through the petals of crimson an' gold. <br /> <br />'The lilacs in spring bring the mother once more, <br /> an' she lives in the midsummer rose. <br />She smiles in the peony clump at the door, an' <br /> sings when the four o'clocks close. <br />She loved every blossom God gave us to own, an' <br /> daily she gave it her care. <br />So never I walk in the garden alone, for I feel <br /> that the mother's still there. <br /> <br />'These are the pinks that a baby once kissed, <br /> still spicy with fragrance an' fair. <br />The years have been long since her laughter I've <br /> missed, but her spirit is hovering there. <br />The roses that ramble and twine on the wall were <br /> planted by one that was kind <br />An' I'm sure as I stand here an' gaze on them all, <br /> that his soul has still lingered behind. <br /> <br />'I'm never alone in the garden,' he said, 'I <br /> have many to talk with an' see, <br />For never a flower comes to bloom in its bed, but <br /> it brings back a loved one to me. <br />An' I fancy whenever I'm bendin' above these <br /> blossoms of crimson an' gold, <br />That I'm seein' an' hearin' the ones that I love, <br /> who lived in the glad days of old.'<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/living-flowers/
