Strange-scented birds and song-flowers grow
In the garden where I cannot go,
Where green-trunked trees grey apples hold
And blue fish swim in pools of gold.
And always there a green sun glows
To burn the song of the red-leafed rose,
While yellow grasses bend their knees
Before a bluebird-smelling breeze.
Around the garden's circle flies
The dragon-tree to eat the skies
With silver-scented fruit that sings
Hid in the branches of its wings.
That garden now to me is gone
Where sight and sound and sense are one,
But children walk there still before
They eat the dragon's cherished store.