The Enchanted Garden.
There no rude winds do blow, nor scorching sun
Shines in upon the work ere it is done;
Nor anything there done too sad to tell;
For there all life is an enchanted spell.
It is a place where crystal Waters run,
Gurgling through flowery mead which charm-
Like the soft chimings of a distant bell.
Within this garden grows the tree which yields
To man the measure of its fruitful joys;
And in its mighty top and branches shields
The charméd inmates that it there decoys;
There all the blushing flowers of virtue start,__
It is the garden of a lovely heart.
The Song of Kansas
(Topeka: Crane & Company. 1890)