 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
“WHAT MAKES THE GARDEN GROW”
What makes the garden growIn beauty and delight—
A place to linger in by day or night,
But chiefly when the long and level light
457
With burning blossoms—the heart's home
Wherefrom our charmèd feet reluctant roam.
Not pride, nor envy, nor crude wealth
Can bring the drooping roses health,
Nor lift the sanguine poppies, row on row,
Nor from their bed of green
Make every iris spread it like a queen;
While all along the wall
The jeweled colors call.
O, not from these can come the art
That touches the deep heart,
That makes the small blades shove
Through the soft earth into a pictured balm above:
Not sordid thoughts and low
Can make the garden grow
In beauty and delight,
A place to linger in by day or night—
Not these, not these, but love.
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |