Hollow smile and frozen sneer

Come not here.

Holy water will I pour
Into every spicy flower

Of the laurel-shrubs that hedge it around. The flowers would faint at your cruel cheer.

In your eye there is death,
There is frost in your breath
Which would blight the plants.
Where you stand you cannot hear
From the groves within

The wild-bird's din.

In the heart of the garden the merry bird chants.

It would fall to the ground if you came in.
In the middle leaps a fountain
Like sheet lightning,
Ever brightening

With a low melodious thunder;
All day and all night it is ever drawn
From the brain of the purple mountain
Which stands in the distance yonder.
It springs on a level of bowery lawn,
And the mountain draws it from heaven
above,

And it sings a song of undying love;

And yet, tho' its voice be so clear and full, You never would hear it, your ears are so dull;

So keep where you are; you are foul with sin;

It would shrink to the earth if you came in.