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Poem by Mathilde Blind


In a Kentish Rose Garden


Beside a Dial in the leafy close,
Where every bush was burning with the Rose,
With million roses falling flake by flake
Upon the lawn in fading summer snows:

I read the Persian Poet's rhyme of old,
Each thought a ruby in a ring of goldЧ
Old thoughts so young, that, after all these years,
They're writ on every rose-leaf yet unrolled.

You may not know the secret tongue aright
The Sunbeams on their rosy tablets write;
Only a poet may perchance translate
Those ruby-tinted hieroglyphs of light.



Mathilde Blind


Mathilde Blind's other poems:
  1. Mourning Women
  2. The Hunter's Moon
  3. The Desert
  4. Perfect Union
  5. On a Forsaken Lark's Nest


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