I know a garden like a child, <br />Clean and new-washed and reconciled. <br />It grows its own sweet way, yet still <br />Has guidance of some tender will <br />That clips, confines, its wilder mood <br />And makes it happy, being good. <br /> <br />Around the lordly mountains stand, <br />For this is an enchanted land, <br />As though their splendours stood to grace <br />This little lovely garden place, <br />Looking with wise and keeping eyes <br />Upon the garden sanctities. <br /> <br />Box borders edge each little bed, <br />Paths narrow for a child to tread <br />Divide the kitchen garden, dear <br />And sweet with musk and lavender, <br />And water-mints and beans in bloom. <br />Be sure the honeybee's at home. <br /> <br />How should I tell in a sweet list <br />Of beauties, rose and amethyst; <br />The little water-garden cool <br />On sultry days, and beautiful <br />The wall-garden, the shade, the sun, <br />Since they are lovely, every one. <br /> <br />Hot honey of the pines is sweet, <br />And when the day's at three o'clock heat <br />A winding walk will you invite <br />To a new garden out of sight. <br />And a green seat is set so near <br />The sluggish, stealing backwater. <br /> <br />The Spirit of the garden plays <br />At hide-and-seek an hundred ways <br />And when you've captured her, she will <br />Elude you, calling backward still, <br />A silver echo -- a sweet child, <br />Demure and lovesome, gay and wild.<br /><br />Katharine Tynan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-garden-45/
