by Arthur Christopher Benson
In my soul's mansion there are many rooms,
Chamber and oratory, hall and dome,
And some are bare and cold, some dark, and some
Noisy with humming of a hundred looms.
But one pavilion by the water's brim,
Hid in the pleasaunce, for myself I keep,
Where swinging roses through the window peep,
And stockdoves murmur in the elm-trees dim.
The voices of the morning call me thence,--
The harsh laborious voices,--and I know
That some day my mysterious Lord shall come
To thrust me from my sweet familiar home.
How will He greet me when He bids me hence,
My master? Will He call me loud or low?
'Linquenda' is Latin for 'that which is to be forsaken or departed from'. A 'pleasaunce' or pleasance, also called a pleasure-garden, is a garden or portion of a garden that exists only to please the senses, thus bearing no fruit.