There is a garden good and great
Enclosed by walls so strong and high
They bar both those who love and hate
Where flowers bloom and never die

Its secret nooks and bowers blessed
By ancient hands of eldritch fate
And those who love, by love confessed
Are let in by the garden gate.

The way to the gate’s a winding path
And a straight one, east and west,
North and south lead to this rath
Where glory’s winged creatures rest;

A narrow way and a broad road—
For every path its ending hath
Therein, on feet hurried or slowed
Or swept up in the aftermath

Of storms and tempests, floods and quakes
Or struggling ’neath a heavy load
That heart and mind and spirit breaks
Upon that track which love hath showed—

For love alone’s the final test,
Highest reward and highest stakes
Whereby the soul in purity dressed
Gains that for which it solely aches.

©Copyright 2019 by Rogue Bard