Gardens of the Poets 229 



" The Bearbine with the Lilac interlaced, 



The sturdy Burdock choked its tender neighbor, 

 The spicy Pink. All tokens were effaced 

 Of human care and labor." 



These lines are a great contrast to the dignified 

 versification of The Old Garden, by Margaret De- 

 land, a garden around which a great city has grown. 



"Around it is the street, a restless arm 



That clasps the country to the city's heart." 



No one could read this poem without knowing that 

 the author is a true garden lover, and knowing as 

 well that she spent her childhood in a garden. 



Another American poet, Edith Thomas, writes 

 exquisitely of old gardens and garden flowers. 



" The pensile Lilacs still their favors throw. 

 The Star of Lilies, plenteous long ago, 

 Waits on the summer dusk, and faileth not. 

 The legions of the grass in vain would blot 

 The spicy Box that marks the garden row. 

 Let but the ground some human tendance know, 

 It long remaineth an engentled spot." 



Let me for a moment, through the suggestion of 

 her last two lines, write of the impress left on nature 

 through flower planting. " The garden long re- 

 maineth an engentled spot." You cannot for years 

 stamp out the mark of a garden; intentional destruc- 

 tion may obliterate the garden borders, but neglect 

 never. The delicate flowers die, but some sturdy 

 things spring up happily and seem gifted with ever- 

 lasting life. Fifteen years ago a friend bought an 

 old country seat on Long Island ; near the site of 



