AN ENGLISH GARDEN 
BY SIR WILLIAM MASON (1772) 
But swift, with willing aid, her glittering green 
Shall England’s Laurel bring; swift shall she spread 
Her broad-leafed shade, and float it fair, and wide. 
Proud to be called an inmate of the soil. . . . 
Nor are the plants which England calls her own 
Few, or unlovely, that, with Laurel joined, 
And kindred foliage of perennial green, 
Will form a close-knit curtain. Shrubs there are 
Of bolder growth, that, at the Spring’s first call, 
Burst forth in blossomed fragrance. Lilacs robed 
In snow-white innocence or purple pride, 
The sweet Syringa, yielding but in scent 
To the rich Orange, or the Woodbine wild 
That loves to hang on barren boughs remote 
Her wreaths of flowery perfume. These beside 
Myriads, that here the Muse neglects to name, 
Will add a vernal lustre to the veil. 
