The bower is completely drowned in bushes;
A bright netting of fresh smelling greenery
Creeps along the half-rotten walls, mess
And through the greenery into the colored casementry
The spring sun looks like golden
Beats with a multi-colored glow. adore
In the semi-darkness of the corners — a cobweb;
Branches of jasmine burst into the door,
Overshadowing the road and the light;
The round table is covered with poems, versed
All around it is covered with monograms, composite
And on it is a forgotten latter bouquet…