Your garden – I can hardly see

Under this glooming summer – dusk sky

The stalwart gnomes peer out at me

But Pippa, black, white, gold, flits by

To investigate a gnat; and daisies white

Fine evening primroses yellow, flowers red

And orange, braving the dark, stay bright,

Need now no exterior source, have stored instead

The set sun’s rich rays like a memory.

We see their thoughts, we see the flowers’ memory

Of day, their mute, sweet evening reverie.