Thrice the spot is blest;
Hermit thrush comes there to build
Carrier doves to rest.
The broad armed oaks, the copse's maze
The cold sea-wind detain;
And sultry summer overstays
When autumn chills the plain.
Self-sown my stately garden grows,
The winds and wind-blown seed,
Cold April rain, and colder snows
My hedges plant and feed.
From mountains far and valleys near,
The harvests sown to-day,
Thrive in all weathers without fear,
Wild planters plant away!
In cities high the careful crowd
Of woe-worn mortals darkling go,
But in these sunny solitudes
My quiet roses blow.
Methought the sky looked scornful down
On all was base in man,
And airy tongues did taunt the town,
Achieve our peace who can!
What need I holier do
Than Walden's haunted wave,
Distilled from heaven's alembic blue,
Steeped in each forest cave...
IN MY GARDEN by Ralph Waldo Emerson
|One of my first roses in the garden.|