Amy Lowell: Behind a Wall

Behind a Wall

I own a solace shut within my heart,  A garden full of many a quaint delight  And warm with drowsy, poppied sunshine; bright, Flaming with lilies out of whose cups dart     Shining things     With powdered wings.
Here terrace sinks to terrace, arbors close  The ends of dreaming paths; a wanton wind  Jostles the half-ripe pears, and then, unkind, Tumbles a-slumber in a pillar rose,     With content     Grown indolent.
By night my garden is o'erhung with gems  Fixed in an onyx setting.  Fireflies  Flicker their lanterns in my dazzled eyes. In serried rows I guess the straight, stiff stems     Of hollyhocks     Against the rocks.
So far and still it is that, listening,  I hear the flowers talking in the dawn;  And where a sunken basin cuts the lawn, Cinctured with iris, pale and glistening,     The sudden swish     Of a waking fish.