HERE in this sequester’d close
Bloom the hyacinth and rose,
Here beside the modest stock
Flaunts the flaring hollyhock;
Here, without a pang, one sees
Ranks, conditions, and degrees.
All the seasons run their race
In this quiet resting-place;
Peach and apricot and fig
Here will ripen and grow big;
Here is store and overplus,—
More had not Alcino
(Henry Austin Dobson)
More Poetry from Henry Austin Dobson:
- A Dead Letter (Henry Austin Dobson Poems)
- The Sun-Dial (Henry Austin Dobson Poems)
- The Dance Of Death (Henry Austin Dobson Poems)
- A Gage D'Amour (Henry Austin Dobson Poems)
- A Familiar Epistle (Henry Austin Dobson Poems)
- An Epistle To An Editor (Henry Austin Dobson Poems)