IN AMERICA
A GARDEN
Come not with careless feet
To tread my garden's unfrequented ways.
No highroad this, no busy clanging street,
No place of petty shows and fond displays.
Here there are blossoms sweet
That shrink and pine from inconsiderate gaze;
And here the birds repeat
Only to loving ears their truest lays.
Hither I can retreat
And drink of peace where peace unravished stays.
Herein are streams of sorrow no man knows—
Herein a well of joy inviolate flows;
Come not with careless feet
To soil my garden's sanctuary ways.
—Anonymous.
I
THE GARDEN AND ITS MEANING
A world without flowers! What would it be? Among those who know, such a question needs no answer—and we are not seeking a reply from the uninitiated who, for lack of understanding and sympathy, can but gaze at us with wondering pity, when our gardens cause us to overlook so much that to them means life. But is there any life more real than the life in the garden for those who actually take part in its creation and nurture it carefully week by week and year by year? If, owing to this absorbing occupation, we fail to give a full share of ourselves to some of the social avocations of the busy world are we to be pitied for getting "back to the soil" to which we belong? Man was put by the Creator "in the Garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it," and even after his forced departure therefrom he was bidden to "till the ground," and the reward seems great to us who know the meaning of the signs and wonders continually being revealed in the garden world.
In seeking the simpler life which many are now craving, if luxuries are blessings that we could do without, must we count the flower garden a luxury? Not while its beauty is a joy in which others may share, nor when it helps to keep at home our interests which make the real home. There is a luxury that often induces the roaming spirit, and doubtless were there fewer motors there would be still more gardens and incidentally more home life. Yet notwithstanding this temptation to roam, gardens are now on the increase in almost every section of the United States. We have made a brave beginning of which to be justly proud.
If only we could live in the world more as we live in the garden, what joy and contentment would be brought into the daily life! In the garden hurry and noise are needless, for perfect system can prevail where each plant, each labor has its own especial time, and where haste is a stranger, quiet reigns. It is in the stillness of the green world that we hear the sounds that make for peace and growth. In the garden, too, we labor faithfully, as best we know how, in following rules that promise good results. Then at a certain time we must stand aside, consciously trusting to the source of life to do the rest. With hopeful eyes we watch and wait, while the mysterious unseen spirit brings life into plant and tree. When something goes wrong, how sublime is our cheerful garden philosophy, as smiling we say: "Just wait until we try next year!" And patiently we try again, and ever patiently, sometimes again and yet again. Our unwritten motto is: "If others can, then why not we?" Even the man who "contends that God is not" shows all this wondrous reliance in the unseen force within his garden.