In An English Garden

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In this old garden, fair, I walk to-day
Heart-charmed with all the beauty of the
scene:
The rich, luxuriant grasses’ cooling green,
The wall’s environ, ivy-decked and gray,
The waving branches with the wind at play,
The slight and tremulous blooms that show
between,
Sweet all: and yet my yearning heart doth
lean
Toward Love’s Egyptian flesh-pots far away.

Beside the wall, the slim Laburnum grows
And flings its golden flow’rs to every breeze.
But e’en among such soothing sights as
these,
I pant and nurse my soul-devouring woes.
Of all the longings that our hearts wot of,
There is no hunger like the want of love!

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