Self-sown my stately garden grows , 

 The winds and wind-blown seed, 

 Cold April rain and colder snows 

 My hedges plant and feed. 



From mountains far and valleys near 

 The harvests sown to-day 

 Thrive in all weathers without fear, 

 Wild planters, plant away ! 



EMERSON. 



Behold there in the woods the fine madman .... 

 he accosts the grass and the trees ; he feels the blood 

 of the violet, the clover, and the lily in his veins ; and 

 he talks with the brook that wets his foot. EMERSON. 



