In my autumn garden I was fain
To mourn among my scattered roses:
Alas for that rosebud which uncloses
To autumn’s languid sun and rain
When all the world is on the wane!
Which has not felt the sweet constrain of June,
Nor heard the nightingale in tune.
Broad faced asters by my garden walk,
You are but coarse compared with roses:
More choice, more dear that rosebud which uncloses
Faint scented, pinched upon its stalk,
That least and last which cold winds balk
A rose it is though least and last of all,
A rose to me though at the fall.
A writer tells of an old woman who said: “My heart is a little garden, and God is planting flowers there.” Every heart should be a little garden. We should keep it always clear of weeds and full of sweet and beautiful plants and flowers. A garden spot anywhere is not only a thing of beauty but is also a blessing to all who see it. Even a window box filled with its bright colour is a benediction. God means that we shall make our lives so beautiful that they will redeem one spot of the world from dreariness and transform it into loveliness.
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