Explore "The Garden Made for Me" by Francis Neilson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
My love and I a garden made -- / So early in the spring, / When larks begin to sing -- / Frail violets a carpet laid, / Of tender blues, for my sweet maid, / When we were gardening.
I did not see the garden grow -- / Fate turned me far astray, / Ere summer's happy ray / The garden kissed, and all the glow / Of fragrant hours I did not know -- / My summer's days were grey.
I did not pick sweet blooms for her, / To make a crown to grace / Her head, and bonny face; / I wandered in a world so bare, / No flower of love perfumed the air, / No blossoms could I trace.
Some lovers sow, some lovers reap, / And others never see / The gardens that might be; / Still, though I might not reap, I keep, / In dreams of her, the mem'ry deep / Of gardens made for me.