A GARDEN 
Come not with careless feet 
To tread my garden’s unfrequented ways. 
No highroad this, no busy clanging street, 
No place of petty shows and fond displays. 
Here there are blossoms sweet 
That shrink and pine from inconsiderate gaze; 
And here the birds repeat 
Only to loving ears their truest lays. 
Hither I can retreat 
And drink of peace where peace unravished stays. 
Herein are streams of sorrow no man knows — v 
Herein a well of joy inviolate flows; 
Come not with careless feet 
To soil my garden’s sanctuary ways. 
— Anonymous. 
