Thoreau & Beyond


Jones Very

The Garden


I saw the spot where our first parents dwelt;

And yet it wore to me no face of change,

For while amid its fields and groves I felt

As if I had not sinned, nor thought it strange;

My eye seemed but a part of every sight,

My ear heard music in each sound that rose,

Each sense forever found a new delight,

Such as the spirit’s vision only knows;

Each act some new and ever-varying joy

Did my father’s love for me prepare;

To dress the spot my ever fresh employ,

And in the glorious whole with him to share;

No more without the flaming gate to stray,

No more for sin’s dark stain the debt of death to pay.

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