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There's an ancient garden that I see
Sometimes in my dreams
Where the very Maytime sunlight plays
And glow with spectral gleams

As I walk, and wait, and listen
I will often seek to find
When it was I know that garden
In an age long left behind

I will often conjure a vision
Of a day that is no more
As I gaze upon the grey, grey scenes
I feel I knew before

Then a sadness settles o'er me
And a tremor seems to start
For I know the flow'rs are shrivell'd hopes
The garden is my heart


(excerpts from poem "The Garden" by H. P. Lovecraft)

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