Throughout the morn I toiled,
Until an hour ere noon--
For no one, save the King and Queen,
May walk in those high gardens, after midday--
When, underneath a cypress shade,
I paused, a moment, resting;
And looking down upon the basking city,
Beneath me slumbering deeply--
Garden on garden glowing, grove on grove,
Like some green fabric, shot with myriad hues,