he would enter the kingdom of heaven
but would not let the stray cat in at his door
upon taking a walk in the sun
you were born on a beautiful spring morning
in the shadow of the mountain side
although it could have been any time of year
and in quite another clime
now it all floods back on you
just where you are truly from
returning like the long lost lover
upon taking a walk in the sun
all upon a bright spring morning
as into your garden you are come
life is but a single moment
taking a walk in the sun
garden
there is no sorrow in my garden
only life and death
wild roses
wild roses grew on the border
but pretty soon after died
I moved into the Albany
and sat up every night
there is a window on the soul
if we have a soul at all
there is a phone here by the bed
but I never make a call
there is a wind and there is a wood
and there is a darkening way
there is a phone here by the bed
but I wouldn’t know what to say
from a room here at the Albany
and a window on the soul
I love a quiet garden
where wild roses grow
no one has an answer
no one has a key
wild roses on the border
no longer bloom for me
only at dusk
the garden slopes down
towards the brook
and the little wooden bridge
to the summerhouse
where at dusk they met
and found acceptance
only at dusk
before supper
a hand of cards
turning in
at dusk
they found their
gradient
there all that time
but obvious
only in the half light
