The Garden

    My heart is a garden tired with autumn, Heaped with bending asters and dahlias heavy and dark, In the hazy¹ sunshine, the garden remembers April, The drench² of rains and a snow-drop quick and clear as a spark；

    Daffodils blowing in the cold wind of morning, And golden tulips, goblets³ holding the rain —— The garden will be hushed with snow, forgotten soon, forgotten —— After the stillness, will spring come again？