There is a Garden birds seek without knowing, 
All of earth's loveliness lies drifted there,
Where pain and adoration blent in prayer
Are as tall rows of deathless flowers growing;
And in the twilight mist their colors showing,
  As through a filmy veil, gleam pale and fair,
  While tender odors linger on the air,
Ethereal breath from unknown spaces blowing. 

Thomas S. Jones, JR.