Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
Come Tend My Garden
Come to my garden Teacher.
The birds of my heart have long since flown,
And the silence tween the mottled boughs has leaden grown.
In the sunrise be the chorus of mornings' glory,
And in the noon tell of Dionysus' story.
In the night be the whistling gale,
Whisper in my ear of some furtive dale.
Come to my garden Teacher.
Scarce the lavender and the rosemary on the breeze,
Rarer now gripped in winter's freeze.
Scented memories, they warm me sometimes in the eve,
Jasmine and honey in foreign winds on exotic leave.
Heady the breath and quick its draw,
Drinking it in, its addiction no flaw.
Come to my garden Teacher.
Overgrown and unknown, bring your fingers there
And burrow neath the weeds among Angels' Hair.
White is the colour of the petals in my soul unfurled;
The oceans of your eyes I drink from chalices pearled,
Slake the thirst of my arrid land,
Spring anew life in rock and sand.
Come to my garden Teacher.
Dim the eyes and dim the skys o'erlooking here,
Yet radient in brilliance your fiery hair.
Weave strands among the pathways bare
And notice by evening some flowers rare.
On my chest lay a river of molten gold,
Come teacher, let us grow old.
poem
by
Keith Moynihan O' Brien
solid border
dashed border
dotted border
double border
groove border
ridge border
inset border
outset border
no border
blue
green
red
purple
cyan
gold
silver
black