The Old Road to Paradise/Garden Dream
GARDEN DREAM
They cried before my gate at morning-mirth, "Come out and help us burn the weeds from earth!"
But I was planting out my garden-close With wands of lily and with slips of rose, And their scented wavings made the air so sweet That I could not listen to the trampling feet . . . (Yet there blew a perfume from the garden-bed That changed the evil weeds to white and red!)
They called before my gate at noontide-breath, "Come out and help us check the dance of death!"
But I was dancing in a woodland ring With brown wood-women for my partnering, And fauns that fluted till the green glades rang, And all I heard was what the wood-birds sang. . . . (Yet there came a music from the wood-folk's flute That made the drums of evil kind and mute!)
They cried before my gate at sweet of night, "Come out and help us scourge the black world white!"
But I was weaving me a golden gown All strung with silver lilies up and down With moon-white laces that should foam and fall, And I could not hear their lashing words at all . . . (Yet there streamed a light from out the golden gown That cleansed the blackness of each evil town!)
And every poor man had a garden-close With wands of lilies and with slips of rose, And every poor child danced the woodlands through And sang and fluted merry songs he knew, And every woman had a golden gown Gay-strung with silver ribbons up and down, And we all went singing how the world is fair And warm the summer light and sweet the air!