Behind the Hudson library,
Where its rotunda ends,
Lies a little garden
Dispensing calm and shade
Across benches and trees
Enclosed within a fence.
There, at the end of May,
A sweetbay magnolia
Already closes its bloom,
While two Japanese dogwoods
Gleam in fourfold whites.
And beyond a Chinese elm,
Having forgone the rush to dizzy heights
After learning the wisdom
Of staying low and close
To the ground they shelter,
Japanese maples boldly assert
Their choice of pert rubicund
Amid the hush of nervous leaves.
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