And the rose-trees, thick and tall,
From their trellis-work are torn.
Dewy paths—once velvet-smooth
For the dainty steps of youth—
Weedy now, and overgrown
With the rank grass all unmown.
Here and there, amid confusion,
Gleams a berry scarlet-hued,
And pale bindweed in profusion
(By the summer breezes wooed),