To make rare perfumes burst from stalks of green
And dash rich colours o'er dull earth is seen.
In that old garden, bright with varied bloom
From early tulip time till winter fell,
It seemed as if no sombre growth or gloom
Had any place, or could desire to dwell;
Yet o'er one corner wildness still held sway,
And there, I always felt, a shadow lay.
In that strange spot pale purple asters came,
When earth wore gorgeous colours on her breast,