IN PRAISE OF GARDENS 



Grove nods at grove, each Alley has a brother, 

 And half the platform just reflects the other. 

 The sufF ring eye inverted Nature sees, 

 Trees cut to Statues, statues thick as trees; 

 With here a fountain, never to be played ; 

 And there a summer-house, that knows no shade ; 

 Here Amphitrite sails thro' myrtle bowers; 

 There Gladiators fight, or die in flowers; 

 Unwatered see the drooping sea-horse mourn, 

 And swallows roost in Nilus' dusty Urn. 

 ALEXANDER POPE. 

 Moral Essays, Ep. IV. 



Child's Song 



I have a garden of my own, 



Shining with flowers of every hue; 

 I love it dearly while alone, 



But I shall love it more with you: 

 And there the golden bees shall crone, 



In summer-time at break of morn, 

 And wake us with their busy hum 



Around the Siha's fragrant thorn. 



[148] 



