I MIND me in the days departed

    How often underneath¹ the sun

    With childish bounds I used to run

    To a garden long deserted².

    The beds and walks were vanish'd quite；

    And wheresoe'er had struck the spade

    The greenest grasses Nature laid

    To sanctify her right.

    I call'd the place my wilderness³

    For no one enter'd there but I.

    The sheep look'd in the grass to espy⁴

    And pass'd it ne'ertheless.

    The trees were interwoven wild

    And spread their boughs⁵ enough about

    To keep both sheep and shepherd out

    But not a happy child.

    Adventurous⁶ joy it was for me！

    I crept beneath the boughs and found

    A circle smooth of mossy ground

    Beneath a poplar-tree.

    Old garden rose-trees hedged it in

    Bedropt with roses waxen-#CCCCFF

    Well satisfied with dew and light

    And careless to be seen.

    Long years ago it might befall

    When all the garden flowers were trim

    The grave old gardener prided him

    On these the most of all.

    Some Lady stately overmuch

    Here moving with a silken noise

    Has blush'd beside them at the voice

    That liken'd her to such.

    Or these to make a diadem⁹

    She often may have pluck'd and twined；

    Half-smiling as it came to mind

    That few would look at them.

    O little thought that Lady proud

    A child would watch her fair #CCCCFF rose

    When buried lay her #CCCCFFr brows

    And silk was changed for shroud¹⁰！—

    Nor thought that gardener （full of scorns

    For men unlearn'd and simple phrase）

    A child would bring it all its praise

    By creeping through the thorns！

    To me upon my low moss⁷ seat

    Though never a dream the roses sent

    Of science or love's compliment

    I ween they smelt¹¹ as sweet.

    It did not move my grief to see

    The trace of human step departed：

    Because the garden was deserted

    The blither place for me！

    Friends blame me not！ a narrow ken⁸

    Hath childhood 'twixt the sun and sward：

    We draw the moral afterward—

    We feel the gladness then.

    And gladdest hours for me did glide¹²

    In silence at the rose-tree wall：

    A thrush made gladness musical

    Upon the other side.

    Nor he nor I did e'er incline

    To peck or pluck the blossoms #CCCCFF：—

    How should I know but that they might

    Lead lives as glad as mine？

    To make my hermit¹³-home complete

    I brought clear water from the spring

    Praised in its own low murmuring

    And cresses glossy¹⁴ wet.

    And so I thought my likeness¹⁵ grew

    （Without the melancholy¹⁶ tale）

    To 'gentle hermit of the dale '

    And Angelina too.

    For oft I read within my nook

    Such minstrel stories； till the breeze

    Made sounds poetic¹⁷ in the trees

    And then I shut the book.

    If I shut this wherein I write

    I hear no more the wind athwart

    Those trees nor feel that childish heart

    Delighting in delight.

    My childhood from my life is parted

    My footstep from the moss which drew

    Its fairy circle round： anew

    The garden is deserted.

    Another thrush may there rehearse

    The madrigals which sweetest are；

    No more for me！—myself afar

    Do sing a sadder verse.

    Ah me！ ah me！ when erst I lay

    In that child's-nest so greenly wrought¹⁸

    I laugh'd unto myself and thought

    'The time will pass away.'

    And still I laugh'd and did not fear

    But that whene'er was pass'd away

    The childish time some happier play

    My womanhood would cheer.

    I knew the time would pass away；

    And yet beside the rose-tree wall

    Dear God how seldom if at all

    Did I look up to pray！

    The time is past： and now that grows

    The cypress¹⁹ high among the trees

    And I behold²⁰ #CCCCFF sepulchres

    As well as the #CCCCFF rose —

    When wiser meeker²¹ thoughts are given

    And I have learnt to lift my face

    Reminded how earth's greenest place

    The colour draws from heaven —

    It something saith for earthly pain

    But more for heavenly promise free

    That I who was would shrink to be

    That happy child again.

上一篇：A Musical Instrument 下一篇：Rosalind's Scroll