Get Your Premium Membership

The Garden

 She is coming, my own, my sweet;
Were it ever so airy a tread,
My heart would hear her and beat,
Were it earth in an earthy bed;
My dust would hear her and beat,
Had I lain for a century dead,
Would start and tremble under her feet,
And blossom in purple and red.

Poem by Louise Gluck
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - The GardenEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Poems are below...



More Poems by Louise Gluck

Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on The Garden

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem The Garden here.

Commenting turned off, sorry.