I know a garden with a loveliness
Deeper than eye can see or indrawn breath
Can measure rightly. Ancient centuries press
Against its walls till time is gone and death
Is lost in fragrance of the lavender
That grows serenely by a lichened stile.
Basil, rosemary, marjoram are there,
And savory, whose blossoms lift a smile
Beside a dripping pool. There silver sage
And lads-love, that all our mothers knew
And pressed for us in many a yellow-page.
Woodruff is there, mint, caraway, and rue.
Old flowers are lovely, lovelier still are these
Sweet scented herbs near box and cedar trees.
~Catherine Coblentz

Awake, O north wind, and come, O south wind!  Blow upon my garden that is fragrances may be wafted abroad.  Let my beloved come to his garden, and eat its choicest fruits.   ~Song of Solomon 4:16   ✝

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