I What Words Of Mine Can Tell The Spell Of Garden Ways I Know So Well? - The Path That Takes Me In The Spring Past Quince-Trees Where The Bluebirds Sing, And Peonies Are Blossoming, Unto A Porch, Wistaria-Hung, Around Whose Steps May-Lilies Blow, A Fair Girl Reaches Down Among, Her Arm More White Than Their Sweet Snow. Ii What Words Of Mine Can Tell The Spell Of Garden Ways I Know So Well? - Another Path That Leads Me, When The Summer Time Is Here Again, Past Hollyhocks That Shame The West When The Red Sun Has Sunk To Rest; To Roses Bowering A Nest, A Lattice, 'Neath Which Mignonette And Deep Geraniums Surge And Sough, Where, In The Twilight, Starless Yet, A Fair Girl'S Eyes Are Stars Enough. Iii What Words Of Mine Can Tell The Spell Of Garden Ways I Know So Well? - A Path That Takes Me, When The Days Of Autumn Wrap The Hills In Haze, Beneath The Pippin-Pelting Tree, 'Mid Flitting Butterfly And Bee; Unto A Door Where, Fiery, The Creeper Climbs; And, Garnet-Hued, The Cock'S-Comb And The Dahlia Flare, And In The Door, Where Shades Intrude, Gleams Bright A Fair Girl'S Sunbeam Hair. Iv What Words Of Mine Can Tell The Spell Of Garden Ways I Know So Well? - A Path That Brings Me Through The Frost Of Winter, When The Moon Is Tossed In Clouds; Beneath Great Cedars, Weak With Shaggy Snow; Past Shrubs Blown Bleak With Shivering Leaves; To Eaves That Leak The Tattered Ice, Whereunder Is A Fire-Flickering Window-Space; And In The Light, With Lips To Kiss, A Fair Girl'S Welcome-Smiling Face.