Speak not -- whisper not;
Here bloweth thyme and bergamot;
Softly on the evening hour,
Secret herbs their spices shower,
Dark-spiked rosemary and myrrh,
Lean-stalked, purple, lavender;
Hides within her bosom, too,
All her sorrows, bitter rue.
Breathe not -- trespass not;
Of this green and darkling spot,
Latticed from the moon's beams,
Perchance a distant dreamer dreams;
Perchance upon its darkening air,
The unseen ghosts of children fare,
Faintly swinging, sway and sweep,
Like lovely sea-flowers in its deep;
While, unmoved, to watch and ward,
Mid its gloomed and daisied sward,
Stands with bowed and dewy head
That one little Leaden lad.
::lavender::
::chamomile::
::lemon verbena::
::rosemary::
::calendula::
♥
