IN PRAISE OF GARDENS 



In the splendid modesty of the rose we are 

 touched with the sense of its utter contentment 

 to live and to die, if but it has fulfilled itself of 

 its color and perfume. In its fulfillment we see 

 its glory. We sense this dimly at first, but later, 

 when we have dwelt in gardens more frequently, 

 we are able to spell out the mystical language 

 the garden is speaking through its flowers and 

 trees and bushes and shrubs. " Would you know 

 what I am ? " asks the rose, in effect, and its life 

 of a day is the answer, and the only answer. It 

 has given itself in explaining itself. Is there any 

 other explanation possible? Not in the labora- 

 tories of men of science, nor yet in learned trea- 

 tises will you find the secret of the rose ; but you 

 will find it in a garden if you look for it with 

 the eyes of your soul. And in finding its secret, 

 you will have found your own secret also. That 

 is why a garden impresses us with a feeling of 

 sanctity; and that also is why a garden is delight- 

 ful. It helps you to find yourself. The mystery 

 of all things is the mystery of your self; and 

 through self-realization you come to a knowl- 

 edge of the beauty in all life, which is to blossom 

 with fragrance " in purple and red." For the 

 secret of life lies not so much in being as it does 



[16.] 



