O painter of the fruits and flowers, <br />We own wise design, <br />Where these human hands of ours <br />May share work of Thine! <br /> <br />Apart from Thee we plant in vain <br />The root and sow the seed; <br />Thy early and Thy later rain, <br />Thy sun and dew we need. <br /> <br />Our toil is sweet with thankfulness, <br />Our burden is our boon; <br />The curse of Earth's gray morning is <br />The blessing of its noon. <br /> <br />Why search the wide world everywhere <br />For Eden's unknown ground? <br />That garden of the primal pair <br />May nevermore be found. <br /> <br />But, blest by Thee, our patient toil <br />May right the ancient wrong, <br />And give to every clime and soil <br />The beauty lost so long. <br /> <br />Our homestead flowers and fruited trees <br />May Eden's orchard shame; <br />We taste the tempting sweets of these <br />Like Eve, without her blame. <br /> <br />And, North and South and East and West, <br />The pride of every zone, <br />The fairest, rarest, and the best <br />May all be made our own. <br /> <br />Its earliest shrines the young world sought <br />In hill-groves and in bowers, <br />The fittest offerings thither brought <br />Were Thy own fruits and flowers. <br /> <br />And still with reverent hands we cull <br />Thy gifts each year renewed; <br />The good is always beautiful, <br />The beautiful is good.<br /><br />John Greenleaf Whittier<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/garden-9/
