Here you will find the Poem The Haunted Garden of poet Henry Treece
In this sad place Memory hangs on the air Fragile as Spring snail's tiny shell, Coming to the sympathetic ear Gentle as bud's green pulsing in the sun, Suave as sin in a black velvet glove; The old faces gaze Wistfully as birds, among the nodding leaves, They watch the pleasures they may never share; And through the twilight hours Old voices call along the river banks, And out of the high-walled garden. Why do they sigh, The gentle ones in the flowering musk; And what are the words of the song The pale stranger sings as he walks The garden's still, deserted paths, Like a boy searching for his dog?
