I own a solace shut within my heart, <br />A garden full of many a quaint delight <br />And warm with drowsy, poppied sunshine; bright, <br />Flaming with lilies out of whose cups dart <br />Shining things <br />With powdered wings. <br /> <br />Here terrace sinks to terrace, arbors close <br />The ends of dreaming paths; a wanton wind <br />Jostles the half-ripe pears, and then, unkind, <br />Tumbles a-slumber in a pillar rose, <br />With content <br />Grown indolent. <br /> <br />By night my garden is o'erhung with gems <br />Fixed in an onyx setting. Fireflies <br />Flicker their lanterns in my dazzled eyes. <br />In serried rows I guess the straight, stiff stems <br />Of hollyhocks <br />Against the rocks. <br /> <br />So far and still it is that, listening, <br />I hear the flowers talking in the dawn; <br />And where a sunken basin cuts the lawn, <br />Cinctured with iris, pale and glistening, <br />The sudden swish <br />Of a waking fish.<br /><br />Amy Lowell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/behind-a-wall/
