A black cat among roses, <br />Phlox, lilac-misted under a first-quarter moon, <br />The sweet smells of heliotrope and night-scented stock. <br />The garden is very still, <br />It is dazed with moonlight, <br />Contented with perfume, <br />Dreaming the opium dreams of its folded poppies. <br />Firefly lights open and vanish <br />High as the tip buds of the golden glow <br />Low as the sweet alyssum flowers at my feet. <br />Moon-shimmer on leaves and trellises, <br />Moon-spikes shafting through the snowball bush. <br />Only the little faces of the ladies' delight are alert and staring, <br />Only the cat, padding between the roses, <br />Shakes a branch and breaks the chequered pattern <br />As water is broken by the falling of a leaf. <br />Then you come, <br />And you are quiet like the garden, <br />And white like the alyssum flowers, <br />And beautiful as the silent sparks of the fireflies. <br />Ah, Beloved, do you see those orange lilies? <br />They knew my mother, <br />But who belonging to me will they know <br />When I am gone.<br /><br />Amy Lowell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-garden-by-moonlight/
