He has lived, a little thing, He has seen the starry hours In the silence he has heard Not a word will he disclose, AUTUMN FIRES 'N the other gardens IN And all up the vale, From the autumn bonfires See the smoke trail! Pleasant summer over And all the summer flowers, The red fire blazes, The gray smoke towers. Sing a song of seasons! THE GARDENER HE gardener does not love to talk, THE He makes me keep the gravel walk; And when he puts his tools away, He locks the door and takes the key. Away behind the currant row Old and serious, brown and big. He digs the flowers, green, red, and blue, Nor wishes to be spoken to. He digs the flowers and cuts the hay, Silly gardener! summer goes, And winter comes with pinching toes, Well now, and while the summer stays, HISTORICAL ASSOCIATIONS EAR Uncle Jim, this garden ground Has seen immortal actions done Here we had best on tip-toe tread, Here is the sea, here is the sand, But yonder, see! apart and high, With Robert Bruce and William Tell, |