APOLOGY xxi 



going I can neither command nor control. In 

 the paths wherein I shall walk, fine spirits, who 

 have already learned the secrets of peace, shall 

 walk also. In the orchards I shall be a child 

 again ; in the uplands I shall spend my prime, 

 and in the shadowy alleys I shall find what 

 balm there may be for sorrow. There again 

 I shall meet the friends whom I have hailed on 

 my journey. There again I shall listen to dear 

 voices which have passed on into silence. 

 There I shall sing, unabashed, bits of song 

 that may come to me there I shall laugh ; 

 there I shall weep. Winter and summer, fall 

 and spring, I will make a part of each day 

 sacred by dwelling apart in these gardens 

 which I may not touch or handle, but which 

 are mine by every right of the spirit, and in 

 my white-paper garden I will disclose some- 

 what of what all gardens should be, even were 

 they not, haply, all of the stuff that dreams are 

 made of. 



