The Garland
No cultivated garden did he own,
But found his bent by wayside and in forest:
He gather'd flowers where seed was never sown,
Unless by Nature's Florist
He lack'd the cultured mind, so richly prized,
But in the wastes of soul found endless choosings,
And cull'd a garland, not to be despised,
Of transient thoughts and musings
But found his bent by wayside and in forest:
He gather'd flowers where seed was never sown,
Unless by Nature's Florist
He lack'd the cultured mind, so richly prized,
But in the wastes of soul found endless choosings,
And cull'd a garland, not to be despised,
Of transient thoughts and musings
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