Past the gate unhinged and worn,
‘Round the ruins, towering old;
Down the hill of grass and thorn,
To the brook that’s clear and cold.

Cross the rill, then in the wood,
Spy the beech which is beyond;
Scan for trunk where oak once stood,
Find the stump, then search for pond.

Near a pool a wall will wind,
Fringed and tall with stone and grass;
But where side has trumpet vine,
Slip behind so you can pass.

There concealed are gaps in rock,
Where you’ll pass without a care;
And when you move past the block,
You will stand astonished there.

For inside this secret place,
Fields of flowers greet your eyes;
Such as Sage and Queen Anne’s Lace,
Or wild Jasmine large in size.

Cobbled stone paths to and fro -
Tiny waterfalls and streams;
Shrubs in bloom each way you go,
Floral scents beyond your dreams.

Morning Glories drape the wall,
Peonies grow near the walk;
Asters lined up nice and tall,
Lovely Snowdrops white as chalk.

Statuaries placed with care,
Bright Saint John’s Wort on a mound;
Rhododendrons near a chair,
Lavender spread on the ground.

In the trees a bluebird sings,
As a toad jumps left and right;
Quick the hummingbird moves wings,
While the butterfly takes flight.

In this peaceful Xanadu,
Wondrous scenes will heal the mind;
So in life may you pursue
Glorious gardens hard to find.