Once, in younger days, when I was tramping country roads

All joyously, and whistling as I went,

Not caring where the way led on

But following my fancy's idle bent,

I chanced to pass a long red garden wall

And on the heavy summer air

There came the rich sweet smell

Of many intermingled flowers growing there.

And curious, I climbed to see the place.

The branches of a gnarled old tree

Gave footing, and I peered from leaves

To see what sort of garden there might be.

I saw the gravelled paths that ran

In even lines to cut the jonquils and the phlox

In squares, and saw the plots of green

Where roses grew, and hollyhocks.

And at the opposite side, two cedar trees

Made splotches black against the wall,

And two great urns on either side

Guarded the fountain's splash and fall.

And sunlight glinted on the shallow pool.

Above a long stone bench the trees were sighing

And below - a woman crouched upon the stone. There came

Faintly to my ears the muffled sound of crying.