Children of the Night

The Garden

     There is a fenceless garden overgrown
     With buds and blossoms and all sorts of leaves;
     And once, among the roses and the sheaves,
     The Gardener and I were there alone.
     He led me to the plot where I had thrown
     The fennel of my days on wasted ground,
     And in that riot of sad weeds I found
     The fruitage of a life that was my own.

     My life!  Ah, yes, there was my life, indeed!
     And there were all the lives of humankind;
     And they were like a book that I could read,
     Whose every leaf, miraculously signed,
     Outrolled itself from Thought's eternal seed,
     Love-rooted in God's garden of the mind.