IN PRAISE OF GARDENS 



But plantations meek and lowly, 



Beds of burning marigold; 

 Yet betwixt the lilies straight 

 Swings the visionary gate. 



Not devoid of dream if blended 

 Are the windflowers and the docks, 



For myself I love a splendid 

 Place of purple hollyhocks, 



And my fancy knows the powers 



Which lie rich in the sunflowers. 



I could set you in my closes, 

 With the seeing sense endow'd, 



Where the weed is as the rose is, 

 And the bird's lilt, low or loud, 



Outward voices, clear and strong, 



Worlds of rapture, worlds of song. 



But for you a place of wonder 



Your own garden ground must be; 



'Twixt the trees that you stand under, 

 Seeing what is yours to see, 



In my garden seen aright 



All is scarlet and white light. 







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