Shut from the clamor of the street br By an old wall with lichen grown, br It holds apart from jar and fret br A peace and beauty all its own. br br The freshness of the springtime rains br And dews of morning linger here; br It holds the glow of summer noons br And ripest twilights of the year. br br Above its bloom the evening stars br Look down at closing of the day, br And in its sweet and shady walks br Winds spent with roaming love to stray, br br Upgathering to themselves the breath br Of wide-blown roses white and red, br The spice of musk and lavender br Along its winding alleys shed. br br Outside are shadeless, troubled streets br And souls that quest for gold and gain, br Lips that have long forgot to smile br And hearts that burn and ache with pain. br br But here is all the sweet of dreams, br The grace of prayer, the boon of rest, br The spirit of old songs and loves br Dwells in this garden blossom-blest. br br Here would I linger for a space, br And walk herein with memory; br The world will pass me as it may br And hope will minister to me.