IN THE GARDEN (M. H.)

We waited for the sun

To break its cloudy prison

(For day was not yet done,

And night still unbegun)

Leaning by the dial.

After many a trial—

We all silent there—

It burst as new-arisen,

Throwing a shade to where

Time travelled at that minute.

Little saw we in it,

But this much I know,

Of lookers on that shade,

Her towards whom it made

Soonest had to go.

1915.

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