THE CHARM OF GARDENS 



this little world — but I doubt if she owned it more 

 than I. 



To end all this, comes a little maid through the Oats, 

 almost hidden by them, her face quivering with tears 

 because of a misplaced trust in a bunch of Nettles. 

 So we apply Dock leaves and a penny, and a farthing's 

 worth of country wisdom, and part friends — I to the 

 head of the valley, she to her father's farm on the other 

 side of the hill. 



