In an evening garden in Connecticut, Sara Teasdale watches the sun set behind apple trees and the elm-shaded town, painting the windows with fire. Twilight brings stillness back to the phlox, asters, roses, and hollyhocks. But the speaker remembers that at noon this same peaceful spot was pierced by the far-off sound of a drum and fife, and by young men marching past the village square. The poem suggests that human urgency—perhaps recruitment or war—briefly shatters the garden’s quiet. By dusk, however, the hills across the river turn violet and the earth seems to absorb all the day’s sorrow, settling calmly into sleep. The mood is elegiac and tender, both aware of loss and comforted by nature’s return to stillness.
In a Garden — Summary
The world is resting without sound or motion, Behind the apple tree the sun goes down Painting with fire the spires and the windows In the elm-shaded town.
Beyond the calm Connecticut the hills lie Silvered with haze as fruits still fresh with bloom, The swallows weave in flight across the zenith On an aerial loom.
Into the garden peace comes back with twilight, Peace that since noon had left the purple phlox, The heavy-headed asters, the late roses And swaying hollyhocks.
For at high-noon I heard from this same garden The far-off murmur as when many come; Up from the village surged the blind and beating Red music of a drum;
And the hysterical sharp fife that shattered The brittle autumn air, While they came, the young men marching Past the village square. . . .
Across the calm Connecticut the hills change To violet, the veils of dusk are deep-- Earth takes her children's many sorrows calmly And stills herself to sleep.