A FORSAKEN GARDEN

In a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland.  At the sea-down's edge between windward and lee. 

Walled round with rocks as an inland island,  the ghost of s garden fronts the sea.   A girdle of brushwood and thorn encloses the steep square slope of the blossomless bed  where the weeds that grew green from the graves of its roses now lie dead. (by: Charles Swinburne)