I Know a Little Garden Path

I know a little garden path,

And tread it every day;

Great dusky roses grow thereby,

And set along the way

Are strange tall lilies silver white

And purple as they sway.

The hour is late when I go down

Between their solemn rows,

All golden tawny is the West

And hushed to deep repose,

A fragrance thrills upon the air,

And silence with me goes.

Yet, as I pass, I hear a voice

That calls again to me;

And where the lilies crowd and sigh

I look but dare not see!

And in the dark the garden fades,

And leaves me memory.