Circumstances Alter Places
I KNOW a garden, dainty sweet,
A trysting place for birds to meet;
Over the mossy fern-plumed wall
The roses nod, they grow so tall.
Strong sunflowers, with their flaming rays,
Stand sentinel in narrow ways,
And Mary lilies gleam a-row,
Pure golden hearts enshrined in snow.
Sweet shadowed by the flowering pea,
The mignonette enthralls the bee,
And pansies, with their kitten graces,
Raise purple, blue and golden faces.
So green, so still, it well might seem,
The perfect garden of a dream!
Yet, if I think what Hell may be,
That garden's picture comes to me!
I know a cave, a rocky shelf,
The sea has hollowed for itself;
Bitten it out in time bygone,
It still appears a wound in stone,
And at its mouth is heaped and tossed
A tangle of old rubbish lost,
Poor refuse of a sordid sort,
The fickle waves’ rejected sport.
A thin green ooze exudes and drips
Over the sea-shells gaping lips,
And through all speech the grey gull’s cry
Comes, like a strident misery.
Who enter there stand side by side,
There is no room for hate or pride.
And I were glad my Heaven should be
That little cave beside the sea!