430 Landscape Gardening 



In the afternoon, they brought him home, and laid him 

 in his library. A terrific storm burst over the river and 

 crashed among the hills, and the wild sympathy of nature 

 surrounded that blasted home. But its master lay serene 

 in the peace of the last prayer he uttered. Loving hands 

 had woven garlands of the fragrant blossoms of the Cape 

 jessamine, the sweet clematis, and the royal roses he loved 

 so well. The next morning was calm and bright, and he 

 was laid in the graveyard, where his father and mother 

 lie. The quiet Fishkill mountains, that won the love of the 

 shy boy in the garden, now watch the grave of the man, 

 who was buried, not yet thirty-seven years old, but with 

 great duties done in this world, and with firm faith in the 

 divine goodness. 



"Unwatch'd, the garden bough shall sway, 

 The tender blossom flutter down, 

 Unloved, that beech will gather brown, 

 This maple burn itself away; 



"Unloved, the sun-flower, shining fair 



Ray round with flame her disk of seed, 

 And many a rose-carnation feed 

 With summer spice the humming air. 



"Unloved, by many a sandy bar 



The brook shall babble down the plain, 

 At noon, or when the lesser wain 

 Is twisting round the polar star; 



"Uncared for, gird the windy grove, 



And flood the haunts of hern and crake; 

 Or into silver arrows break, 

 The sailing moon in creek and cove; 



"Till from the garden and the wild, 

 A fresh association blow, 

 And year by year, the landscape grow 

 Familiar to the stranger's child; 



"As, year by year, the laborer tills 



His wonted glebe, or lops the glades; 

 And year by year our memory fades 

 From all the circle of the hills." 



