And loveliness will lend the earth
Its radiance and sheen
If but one rosebud come to birth,
One single leaf grow green.
Ah, waving trees of Wharncliffe House,
That tremble to and fro,
Old dreams and fancies you arouse,
Old fires you set aglow.
Your shaded greenness soothes the eye,
Worn out with dusty hours,
But still I crave that Eastern sky,
Those brilliant Orient flowers!
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