Come down the woodland way a while with me.
Be still, and know the spirit of this place
That is my garden. How each flower's face
Turns to us o'er the serried rosemary
Which guard my lilies from captivity!
What slow unfolding of the harebell's grace!
What quiet moving of majestic pace
In the persistence of the shrub and tree!
Made one with Nature, you, my Love, and I
Are reconciled; for life to us is good,
Who heard a Presence in the garden cry:
“Delve earth, smite rock, plunge pool, and cleave the wood;
There thou shalt find Me!”... Dear, and we have found
Peace through our loyal kinsmen of the ground.