The Haunted Garden

THERE a tattered marigold And dead asters manifold, Showed him where the garden old Of time bloomed: Briar and thistle overgrew Corners where the rose once blew, Where the phlox of every hue Lay entombed. Here a coreopsis flower Pushed its disc above a bower, Where once poured a starry shower, Bronze and gold: And a twisted hollyhock, And the remnant of a stock, Struggled up, 'mid burr and dock, Through the mold. Flower-pots, with mossy cloak, Strewed a place beneath an oak, Where the garden-bench lay broke By the tree: And he thought of her, who here Sat with him but yesteryear; Her, whose presence now seemed near Stealthily. And the garden seemed to look For her coming. Petals shook On the spot where, with her book, Oft she sat.— Suddenly there blew a wind: And across the garden blind, Like a black thought in a mind, Stole a cat. Lean as hunger; like the shade Of a dream; a ghost unlaid; Through the weeds its way it made, Gaunt and old: Once 't was hers. He looked to see If she followed to the tree.— Then recalled how long since she Had been mold.