I Could Not Run Or Play In Boyhood. In Manhood I Could Only Sip The Cup, Not Drink - For Scarlet-Fever Left My Heart Diseased. Yet I Lie Here Soothed By A Secret None But Mary Knows: There Is A Garden Of Acacia, Catalpa Trees, And Arbors Sweet With Vines - There On That Afternoon In June By Mary'S Side - Kissing Her With My Soul Upon My Lips It Suddenly Took Flight.