Still, No Gardener Would Be A Gardener

I Have Come To The Conclusion, After Many Years Of Sometimes Sad Experience, That You Cannot Come To Any Conclusion At All.

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

April, The Angel Of The Months, The Young Love Of The Year.

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

I Loved You When Love Was Spring, And May, Loved You When Summer Deepened Into June, And Now When Autumn Yellows All The Leaves.