O’er the garden walks neglected
Crawl’d the toad, the worm, the snail;
Droop’d the young buds unrespected:
Loving care could not avail.
For the poet-soul, the master,
Could alone that place
Make beautiful, and from disaster
Free—as Aidenn—by God’s grace.
When he the palace left, and garden,—
The moment that he would depart—