I have a fair walled garden,
The winds are shut outside;
Secure and free from vandal,
Demesne both snug and wide.
No fruit of growth so foreign
But in its soil finds room,
And never lift mine eyes in vain
To find some bough a-bloom.
The flowers gleam like beacons,
For dragon-flies that throng;
Nor doth it lack for nightingales
To jewel it with song.
And where the friendly shade trees
Clasp hands to arch a shrine
Are carven all the names I love;
A radiant roll they shine.
The leaves disdain to wither,
And when a breeze goes by
They flutter into laughter
Whose echo is a sigh.
At eve, when tent of twilight
Shuts out the spying sun,
I almost hear them whispering
The Thousand Tales and One.
Yet (by a strange enchantment
Their eyes were veiled so!)
Some who within my garden walked
Saw only books in row!
First published in The Brisbane Courier, 23 March 1929
The winds are shut outside;
Secure and free from vandal,
Demesne both snug and wide.
No fruit of growth so foreign
But in its soil finds room,
And never lift mine eyes in vain
To find some bough a-bloom.
The flowers gleam like beacons,
For dragon-flies that throng;
Nor doth it lack for nightingales
To jewel it with song.
And where the friendly shade trees
Clasp hands to arch a shrine
Are carven all the names I love;
A radiant roll they shine.
The leaves disdain to wither,
And when a breeze goes by
They flutter into laughter
Whose echo is a sigh.
At eve, when tent of twilight
Shuts out the spying sun,
I almost hear them whispering
The Thousand Tales and One.
Yet (by a strange enchantment
Their eyes were veiled so!)
Some who within my garden walked
Saw only books in row!
First published in The Brisbane Courier, 23 March 1929