My Garden.

My garden is enchanted just as dawn is breaking through,
With its carpet of forget-me-nots a'-gleaming ‘neath the dew;
When scarlet poppies curtsey in the playful morning breeze,
And a choir of feathered songsters sings the sweetest melodies.

My garden is enchanted just as day is nearly done
With its host of pink-tipped daisies turning yellow in the sun;
When busy bees are stealing, and a Bright-eyed warbler sings,
And the sunset spills its amber where the honeysuckle swings.

My garden is enchanted just as twilight ends the day,
With evening breezes bringing you the scent of lilac gay;
When weary birds are nesting, and the Black-eyed Susans sleep,
And purple shadows linger where the rambling roses creep.

My garden is enchanted just as stars are peeping through,
With silver night-moths lurking where the kowhai spreads its hue;
When stardust lightly tinsels every pale anemone,
And rustling leaves and branches play a magic symphony.

—Mavis Brown.

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