SET FORTH IN
VERSES & COLOURED
DESIGNS
BY
WALTER CRANE
LONDON: AT THE
HOUSE OF HARPER
AND BROTHERS:
1899
THE OLD ENGLISH GARDEN
A FLORAL PHANTASY
In an old world garden dreaming,
Where the flowers had human names,
Methought, in fantastic seeming,
They disported as squires and dames.
Of old in Rosamond's Bower,
With it's peacock hedges of yew,
One could never find the flower
Unless one was given the clue;
So take the key of the wicket,
Who would follow my fancy free,
By formal knot and clipt thicket,
And smooth greensward so fair to see
And while Time his scythe is whetting,
Ere the dew from the grass has gone,