A Man And His Tools Make A

Nothing Shows Up The Difference Between The Things Said Or Read, So Much As The Daily Experience Of It.

My Garden All Is Overblown With Roses,/ My Spirit All Is Overblown With Rhyme.

How Poor And Disheartening A Thing Is Experience Compared With Hope!

But You, Oh Gardener, Poet That You Be / Though Unaware, Now Use Your Seeds Like Words / And Make Them Lilt With Color Nicely Flung.

I Suppose The Pleasure Of The Country Life Lies Really In The Eternally Renewed Evidences Of The Determination To Live. That Is A Truism When Said, But Anything But A Truism When Daily Observed. Nothing Shows Up The Difference Between The Thing Said Or Read, So Much As The Daily Experience Of It.