Exclusiveness In A Garden Is A Mistake

Tears Are Summer Showers To The Soul.

In Vain Would Science Scan And Trace Firmly Her Aspect. All The While, There Gleams Upon Her Far-off Face A Vague Unfathomable Smile.

We Come From The Earth, We Return To The Earth, And In Between We Garden.

There Is No Gardening Without Humility. Nature Is Constantly Sending Even Its Oldest Scholars To The Bottom Of The Class For Some Egregious Blunder.

In My Song You Catch At Times Note Sweeter Far Than Mine, And In The Tangle Of My Rhymes Can Scent The Eglantine.