Hiding under the hill, <br />Heavy with trailing robes and tangled veils of green, <br />Till only its little haggard face was visible, <br />The garden lay shy and wistful, <br />Lovelorn for summer departing, <br />Blowing its little trickling fountain tune into the air. <br />And over all, hushing, soothing, <br />Lay the clematis <br />Like early snow.<br /><br />Harriet Monroe<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-garden-46/
