1038 Rural School Leaflet. 



QUOTATIONS 



See the soft green willow springing 

 Where the waters gently pass, 

 Every way her free arms flinging 

 O'er the moist and reedy grass. 

 Long ere winter blasts are fled, 

 See her tipped with vernal red, 

 And her kindly flower displayed 

 Ere her leaf can cast a shade. 



Now like swarms of downy millers. 

 Or like droves of caterpillars, 

 Stand the yellow coated willows. 

 Which, by every zephyr shook, 

 Strew with catkins all the brook. 



-John Keble 



— Fred Lewis Pattee 



The nature-desire may be perpetual and constant, but the garden- 

 desire returns with every new springtime. — L. H. Bailey. 



Sooner or later, every person feels this desire to plant something. 

 It is the return to Eden, the return to ourselves after the long estrange- 

 ment of our artificial lives. One of us dreams of a little patch of orchard 

 bounded by cool, grassy banks. Another wants a snug and tidy garden- 

 plat bounded by a wall and a lattice, and at one side a tinker's room of 

 tools, rakes and hoes and watering-cans, and assorted sizes of pots and 

 boxes containing string and labels and screws and bits of wire. In this 

 room he would work when the rain falls heavily on the floor and pours 

 across the doorway from the wide-hanging eaves. Others want long, 

 trim rows of strawberries, beets, and onions, with beds of lettuce, hills 

 of squashes, and clumps of hyssop and sage in the corners, all ranged 

 and labeled as the books on a shelf. — L. H. Bailey. 



Have you made a garden all by yourself? Then try it, if you have 

 not. Do not delegate the work. Yourself thrust the spade deep into 

 the tender earth. Bear your weight on the handle and feel the earth 

 loosen and break. Turn over the load. You smell the soft, moist odor, 

 an odor that takes you back to your younger and freer days or ivcndsyou 

 dreaming over the fields. — L. H. Bailey. 



