Amy Lowell - The Fruit Garden Path

The path runs straight between the flowering rows,
A moonlit path, hemmed¹ in by beds of bloom,
Where phlox and marigolds dispute for room
With tall, red dahlias and the briar rose.
'T is reckless prodigality² which throws
Into the night these wafts³ of rich perfume
Which sweep across the garden like a plume⁴.
Over the trees a single bright star glows.
Dear garden of my childhood, here my years
Have run away like little grains of sand;
The moments of my life, its hopes and fears
Have all found utterance⁵ here, where now I stand;
My eyes ache with the weight of unshed tears,
You are my home, do you not understand?