The Little Ghost

I knew her for a little ghost
     That in my garden walked;
The wall is high—higher than most—
     And the green gate was locked.
And yet I did not think of that
     Till after she was gone—
I knew her by the broad white hat,
     All ruffled, she had on.
By the dear ruffles round her feet,
     By her small hands that hung
In their lace mitts, austere and sweet,
     Her gown’s white folds among.
I watched to see if she would stay,
     What she would do—and oh!
She looked as if she liked the way
     I let my garden grow!
She bent above my favourite mint
     With conscious garden grace,
She smiled and smiled—there was no hint
     Of sadness in her face.