Poetry Archives

Into my garden sweet and fair
Brightly the sun at noonday shines,
Melting the frost from the wintry air,
Warming the trellis of leafless vines.

Basking there in the genial heat,
South of my sheltering vineyard wall,
Strolling, I dream in my lov’d retreat,—
The smile of the sun-god over all.

Far too early a shadow dark,
Cast by the neighboring mountain’s crest,
Stealthily creeps across the park,
Bringing a chill from the sombre west.

Little by little my sunlit space
Shrinks to a narrowing path of light;
Further and further with dread I trace
The sure advance of approaching night.

Soon will arrive its twilight pall;
Then, as the potent change is felt,
The fountain’s drops will cease to fall
And feathery films refuse to melt.

But still in the solar warmth I wait,
The hand of my lov’d one clasped in mine;
Is that a tear? It is growing late,
And she asks how long the sun will shine.