From ancient gardens under summer skies:
New opened buds, and some that soon must shed
Their leaves to earth, that all expectant lies;
Some from the paths of poets’ wandering,
Some from the places where young lovers meet,
Some from the seats of dreamers pondering,
And all most richly red, and honey-sweet.
For in the splendour of the afternoon,
When sunshine lingers on the glittering town
And glorifies the temples wondrous-hewn