My heart is a garden tired with autumn, br Heaped with bending asters and dahlias heavy and dark, br In the hazy sunshine, the garden remembers April, br The drench of rains and a snow-drop quick and clear as a spark; br br Daffodils blowing in the cold wind of morning, br And golden tulips, goblets holding the rain -- br The garden will be hushed with snow, forgotten soon, forgotten -- br After the stillness, will spring come again?br br Sara Teasdalebr br