IN THE GARDEN
AN EASTER PRELUDE

W. M. L. Jay

Part I

Deep down in the garden closes,
In the wildering April weather,
The embryo lilies and roses
Whispered and wondered together:—
“What doth it mean, this thrill
And stir in the mould about us?
Will it prophecies sweet fulfil,
Or cometh it but to flout us?”
A Lily
It may be a downward drift
From that unknown world above us,
Some mystical stir or lift
Of beings that know and love us,—
That world of wonderful things,
Ineffable tints and glories,
And blossoms that wander on wings—
A Red Rose
Now, do you believe those stories!
That world and its wings and its glow,
I fear me are only fancies
Why, barely a fortnight ago,
Went thither our friends, the pansies!
A Lily
Did any return to tell
How the blindfold journey ended,—
If joy at the last befell,
Or a deadly frost descended?
A White Rose
Nathless, it is pleasant to stray
In limitless dream and vision.
A Red Rose
Nay, better be senseless as clay
And feel not the walls that imprison!
A Pink Rose
What more than this warm brown nest
Need any one dream or desire?
A Lily
Ah, me! in my aching breast
Is a thirst for something higher!
I may surely trust I go
To some lovely goal unknowing,
To some better thing I grow—
At least, I think I am growing.

Part II

Out in the garden closes,
In the shining, summery weather,
Blossoming lilies and roses
Wondered and laughed together:—
“What a wide, wide world of bliss,
Of loveliest gleams and glowings!
We had never a vision like this,
In the fairest of hope’s foreshowings.”
A White Rose
What a beautiful thing is light!
What marvellous thing is motion!
The sunbeams in followless flight,
The shimmer and swell of the ocean!
A Pink Rose
And the sky, what a wonder of blue!
And the dawn, what a dazzle of splendour!
A Red Rose
How light is the fall of the dew,
And the kiss of the breezes, how tender!
A Pink Rose
So blithe is the brown birds’ song,
So clear is the ether they swim in!
A Lily
So kindly are men and so strong
So gentle and gracious are women!
A White Rose
Such gladness to bud and to bloom
Sweet odour and honey outgiving!—
How could we, down here in that gloom,
Conceive of this rapture of living?
A Lily
And yet, I was ever at strife
With a hope—that was half a sorrow;
So vain, in that underground life
Seemed thought of a radiant morrow!
Lilies and Roses
On lines that to us were unknown!
For written was all our story;
To the Lord of the garden alone
Be honour and praise and glory.
For had He not planted with care,
And loosened the earth from around us,
We never had grown to be fair,
Nor blossom nor blessing had crowned us!