Come Out To The Garden

There, Charlotte Rosa Baring stands in the garden,

In her home at Harrington Hall.

Early greening grass sits in a litter of brown

The midst of a morning in fall.

In the warm sunlight she goes and wanders the lawns,

The garden’s ornate rooms and doors

And stale woodbine spices float aloft linger still

Ashes on the rose garden floor.

Here in the garden where Maud mourned her lover lost

In a flood of forbidden loves,

Here in the garden where Maud mourned her lover lost

With the slap of duelling gloves,

And passage to France and war and exile beyond,

May death be a pain less than loss.

Perhaps her own loved life gone takes little to bare

Than the price of bearing a cross.

There, Charlotte Rosa Baring stands in the garden,

A rosebud garden girl of late,

There, Charlotte Rosa Baring stands in the garden,

And lo, stands a Lord at the gate.

 

 

 

COPYRIGHT © 2017 GRANT FENTON – ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 

 

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