GREETING FROM DEPT. OF. AGRICULTURE AND FORESTRY, U. OF M. 



439 



Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not made 

 By singing, "Oh, how beautiful," and sitting in the shade, 

 While better men than we go out and start their working lives 

 At grubbing weeds from gravel paths with broken dinner knives. 



There's not a pair of legs so thin, there's not a hea'd so thick, 

 There's not a hand so weak and white, nor yet a heart so sick, 

 But it can find some needful job that's crying to be done, 

 For the Glory of the Garden glorifieth every one. 



Then seek your job with thankfulness and work till further 



orders, 

 If it's only netting strawberries or killing slugs on borders; 

 And when your back stops aching and your hands begin to 



harden, 

 You will find yourself a partner in the Glory of the Garden. 



Oh, Adam was a gardener, and God, who made him, sees 

 That a half a proper gardener's work is done upon his knees, 

 So when your work is finished, you can wash your hands and 



pray 

 For the Glory of the Garden that it may not pass away. 

 And the Glory of the Garden, it shall never pass away. 



Prof. Samuel B. Green, 

 From a photo taken about 1900. 



Mrs. A. A. Kennedy. 



