A little garden have I made me here, Of tender, fragrant plants--none bright or gay--And hither shall I come in twilight-time To dream awhile of the dear yesterday.
A little breeze comes whispering from the Past-- A magic whisper, wondrous soft and sweet;I kneel upon the path, to closer come To those dear blossoms growing at my feet.
A little scent of lavender, so faint; And rosemary--and that I pluck and holdThinking of you--Death came so soon to you ... Another breeze blows by.--'Tis strangely cold.
