I made another garden, yea, <br />For my new love; <br />I left the dead rose where it lay, <br />And set the new above. <br />Why did the summer not begin? <br />Why did my heart not haste? <br />My old love came and walked therein, <br />And laid the garden waste. <br /> <br />She entered with her weary smile, <br />Just as of old; <br />She looked around a little while, <br />And shivered at the cold. <br />Her passing touch was death to all, <br />Her passing look a blight: <br />She made the white rose-petals fall, <br />And turned the red rose white. <br /> <br />Her pale robe, clinging to the grass, <br />Seemed like a snake <br />That bit the grass and ground, alas! <br />And a sad trail did make. <br />She went up slowly to the gate; <br />And there, just as of yore, <br />She turned back at the last to wait, <br />And say farewell once more.<br /><br />Arthur William Edgar O'Shaughnessy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-made-another-garden/
