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I AM OFF TO WALK MY GARDEN
By Louis Blake Duff
In heaven, when the summer comes,
I shall hang my harp and say,
I am off to walk my garden
At the dawning of the day.
A-weary of jasper walls
Homely flags I’ll walk once more,
A-weary of your purple thrones–
Oh the bench beside my door!
I am off to walk my garden
In the grey and creeping light;
To drink the keen, cool wines of morn
From flagons filled in the night.
I’ll see the quiet day come up
In search of the sleeping lea,
And hear the solemn trees confer
In whispering mystery.
Aloft the locust by the bridge
Her uncounted censers swings;
The brook below in sweet content
Sings of happy wanderings.
Fair Flora in her robes of white
As in summers gone will smile
And wave to me from the hedgerow
When I mount the meadow stile.
And when I mount the meadow stile
I shall know my journey done;
The new heaven far behind me,
And an old one just begun.
O paradise; when summer comes,
I shall hang my harp and say,
I am off to walk my garden
At the dawning of the day.
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