Sara Teasdale — The Garden

My heart is a garden tired with autumn,        &nbsp Heaped with bending asters and dahlias heavy and dark, In the hazy sunshine, the garden remembers April,        &nbsp The drench of rains and a snow-drop quick and clear as a spark; Daffodils blowing in the cold wind of morning,        &nbsp And golden tulips, goblets holding the rain— The garden will be hushed with snow, forgotten soon, forgotten—        &nbsp After the stillness, will spring come again?