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Page 201 of Blooms of the berry / Madison Julius Cawein.

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BLOOMS OF THE BERRY. IN AN OLD GARDEN. THE Autumn pines and fades Upon the withered trees; And over there, a choked despair, You hear the moaning breeze. The violets are dead; Dead the tall hollyhocks, That hang like rags on the wind-crushed flags, And the lilies' livid stocks. The wild gourd clambers free Where the clematis was wont; Where nenuphars waxed thick as stars Rank weeds stagnate the font. Yet in my dreams I hear A tinkling mandolin; In the dark blue light of a fragrant night Float in and out and in. And the dewy vine that climbs To my lady's lattice sways, And behind the vine there come to shine Two pleasant eyes and gaze. 201