Ode to a spreading garden

 

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I learned of grace from a spreading garden

From faces of violet and blue

Which tumbled over boulders placed in a slicing line,

And told of a place for flowers, which was not beyond their reach

And tried, I suppose, to keep the life in and the trodden path out

But the flowers did not notice, nor care it seemed

They grew so proud, so free, so unaware

Of where they were supposed to be

I learned of grace from a spreading garden

From the rocky, trodden ground

That even the most novice of plant...