A Scottish Garden

LOWLAND garden,
Sunk in beechwoods,
Lichen-walled,
Espaliered, ivied;
Where the wee burn,
Bridged and arbored,
Winds through blue-bells:
In its dulcet
Wave, reflecting
Rhododendron,
Oleander:
Here at even
Dimly wandering,
Shadowy forms
Of olden ladies
Pass and hover:
Soft the trail of floating panier,
India muslin:
Faint the scent
Of heaping baskets,
Sweet geranium,
Cinnamon roses:
Silver fall
Along the beechwood,
Mingled voices,
Hidden calls
And dream-like laughter: —
“Arabella!”
“Theodora!”
“Juliana! ”
“Leonora!”