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1828–1909

THE GARDEN OF EPICURUS

George Meredith

That Garden of sedate Philosophy Once flourished, fenced from passion and mishap, A shining spot upon a shaggy map; Where mind and body, in fair junction free,

Luted their joyful concord; like the tree From root to flowering twigs a flowing sap. Clear Wisdom found in tended Nature's lap Of gentlemen the happy nursery.

That Garden would on light supremest verge, Were the long drawing of an equal breath Healthful for Wisdom's head, her heart, her aims. Our world which for its Babels wants a scourge,

And for its wilds a husbandman, acclaims The crucifix that came of Nazareth.

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