MovW <WJen 



of cedars, and I sit at the threshold of my rose gar- 

 den silently with one to whom words are unnecessary, 

 my eyes resting now on the garden of stars above, 

 now on the rose stars below, then indeed the garden 

 brings a brooding sense of completeness, content and 

 blessing and I ask no more of life. 



I have never resented being told I was made out 

 of dust, which really means soil, for to have the same 

 origin as the flowers and trees is a very fine thing 

 indeed, and makes us cousins to the violet and sisters 

 of the oak. 



The flowers give us a truer sense of values ; we 

 do not envy the dwellers in the money-mart ; we have 

 a wealth which pays its hourly dividends in beauty 

 and happiness, and to add to our wealth we do not 

 need to rob or hurt any other fellow mortal. We 

 do not desire extraneous excitement, for a garden ban- 

 ishes boredom ; no hour is empty, no day is futile. 



Each year that passes brings another spring in 

 which to grow young, another fall in which to harvest 

 our riper dreams. 



