THE FUN OF MAKING GARDEN 
Oh, I don’t want to sow 
An’ I never want to reap; 
Ruther be off yonder 
In the valleys green an’ deep; 
Wind that waves the blossoms 
Singin’ me to sleep, 
All in a bright spring mornin’. 
Never made fer toilin’— 
Only made to be 
Yonder where the river 
Is sayin’ things to me; 
Where the lily’s tilted over 
By the gold weight of the bee, 
All in a bright spring mornin’. 
75 
—Atlanta Constitution. 
