Part 29 (1/2)

By the dear ruffles round her feet, By her small hands, that hung In their lace mitts, austere and sweet, Her gown's white folds among.

I watched to see if she would stay, What she would do,--and, oh, She looked as if she liked the way I let my garden grow!

She bent above my favorite mint With conscious garden grace, She smiled and smiled,--there was no hint Of sadness in her face;

She held her gown on either side, To let her slippers show, And up the walk she went with pride, The way great ladies go;

And where the wall is built in new, And is of ivy bare, She paused,--then opened and pa.s.sed through A gate that once was there.

EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY

ROSES IN THE SUBWAY

A wan-cheeked girl with faded eyes Came stumbling down the crowded car, Clutching her burden to her breast As though she held a star.

Roses, I swear it! Red and sweet And struggling from her pinched white hands, Roses ... like captured hostages From far and fairy lands!

The thunder of the rus.h.i.+ng train Was like a hush.... The flower scent Breathed faintly on the stale, whirled air Like some dim sacrament--

I saw a garden stretching out And morning on it like a crown-- And o'er a bed of crimson bloom My mother ... stooping down.

DANA BURNET

THE GARDEN OVER-SEAS

A GARDEN PRAYER

_That we are mortals and on earth must dwell Thou knowest, Allah, and didst give us bread-- And remembering of our souls didst give us food of flowers-- Thy name be hallowed._

THOMAS WALSH

IN THE GARDEN-CLOSE AT MEZRA

In the garden-close at Mezra, When the cactus was in flower, We sat apart together Through the languid noonday hour.

I was her Arab lover, (Of course it was all in play!) And I called her ”Star-of-Twilight,”

And I called her ”Dream-of-Day.”

She--has she quite forgotten?

Soothly, I do not know If ever she tenderly opens The volume of Long Ago.

But I--I can still remember Her lips like the cactus flower In the garden-close at Mezra At the languid noonday hour!

CLINTON SCOLLARD