Page:Poems - volume 1 - EBBrowning (1844).pdf/248

 Thus she drew me the first morning, out across into the garden: And I walked among her noble friends, and could not keep behind; Spake she unto all and unto me—"Behold, I am the warden, Of the birds within these lindens, which are cages to their mind.

"But here, in this swarded circle, into which the lime-walk brings us— Whence the beeches rounded greenly, stand away in reverent fear,— I will let no music enter, saving what the fountain sings us, Which the lilies round the basin, may seem pure enough to hear.

"And the air that waves the lilies, waves this slender jet of water, Like a holy thought sent feebly up from soul of fasting saint!