12

To Your Garden-Beautiful

When soft and flowing curves fall, like shadows 
On the heather, oft' call we fortunate 
The viewer of it. Though nature's stage is 
No accident, the weather nor sunset 
   Chance, other well-pleasing forms are much more 
   Deliberate. Gentle seas at sunrise, 
   The taste of tree meats and, from the field, chore-
   Breezes carrying softly songs of the wise 
Forest's children. None could I ever hear, 
See or taste, but for fruits of a different 
Garden where deep the plow has furrowed. There, 
Those gentle lush and swelling fields have lent 
   A most clear glass so nature may be praised. 
   To your garden-beautiful, this be phrased.