The Garden

There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness here;
Never mind dots for counting,
Never mind fresh men scared -
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Prithee, my people,
Into my garden come!