t? IN PRAISE OP GARDENS 



Oh, my garden rich with pansies! 

 Oh, my childhood's bright romances! 

 All revive, like Hector's body, 

 And I see them stir again. 



And despite life's changes, chances, 

 And despite the deathbell's toll. 

 They press on me in full seeming 

 Help, some angel! stay this dreaming! 



As the birds sang in the branches, 

 Sing God's patience through my soul. 

 E. B. BROWNING. 



Early Influence of Gardens Remains 

 Always 



'Tis sweet to love in childhood, when the souls 



that we bequeath 

 Are beautiful in freshness as the coronals we 



wreathe ; 

 When we feed the gentle robin, and caress the 



leaping hound, 

 And linger latest on the spot where buttercups 



are found : 



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