Garden At Summer

Plump and oozing, the rosebuds wet Doused in full shot, with doubled red To rouse gaiety and flare of lamps Cupped in single flower-folds and wrapped Close to the heart, carrying beloved babes By sovereign arms giving all embrace; When guarded under family love and conclave, Against the long-sheltering stone of a grave. The scattered meadow, like a sun-filtered dam Tidy placid area, where exchanged winds ran Odour and resurrection of fair clef; Row burgeoning in panoply conferring, Dead silence bidden by the whirl wind That almost dropped a spirit up the trees.