In My Song You Catch At Times

Falling Stars Are High Examples Sent To Warn, Not Lure. Gross Fancy Says They Are Substantial Meteors; But That Is Not So. They Are The Merest Phantasies Of Night, When She's Asleep, And, Dimly Visited By Past Effects, She Dreams Of Lucifer Hurled Out Of Heaven.

So, Timely You Came, And Well You Chose, You Came When Most Needed, My Winter Rose. From The Snow I Pluck You, And Fondly Press Your Leaves 'twixt The Leaves Of My Leaflessness.

Where Has Thou Been All The Dumb Winter Days When Neither Sunlight Was Nor Smile Of Flowers, Neither Life, Nor Love, Nor Frolic, Only Expanse Melancholic, With Never A Note Of Thy Exhilarating Lays?

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

A Garden That One Makes Oneself Becomes Associated With One’s Personal History And That Of One’s Friends, Interwoven With One’s Tastes, Preferences And Character And Constitutes A Sort Of Unwritten Autobiography.