Explore "Poems" by Elinor Jenkins on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A wilderness were better than this place / Where foregone seasons set a gentle spell / Decking it with such fair and tender grace / An angel might be pleased here to dwell; / Now all its gay delights are dismal grown / In the full glory of the summer time, / As from the horror of some evil thing / Its every grace had flown, -- / Laid under penance for an unknown crime / The garden close lies sick and sorrowing.
Pale in the sultry splendour of the day / Each shoot a finger, stiffened wearily, / The harsh-leaved rosemary stands stark and grey / Pointing at that which none may ever see, / And darker grows the pansy's brooding face / With dark foreboding; and the lily's cup / Turns loathsome, festering sourly in the sun; / In the cypress's embrace / The valiant scented bay is swallowed up.