The Garden

¹How vainly men themselves amaze

²To win the palm, the oak, or bays,

³And their uncessant labours see

⁴Crowned from some single herb or tree,

⁵Whose short and narrow-verged shade

⁶Does prudently their toils upbraid;

⁷While all flowers and all trees do close

⁸To weave the garlands of repose.

⁹Fair Quiet, have I found thee here,

¹⁰And Innocence, thy sister dear!

¹¹Mistaken long, I sought you then

¹²In busy companies of men.

¹³Your sacred plants, if here below,

¹⁴Only among the plants will grow.

¹⁵Society is all but rude,

¹⁶To this delicious solitude.

¹⁷No white nor red was ever seen

¹⁸So amorous as this lovely green.

¹⁹Fond lovers, cruel as their flame,

²⁰Cut in these trees their mistress' name;

²¹Little, alas, they know or heed

²²How far these beauties hers exceed!

²³Fair trees, wherese'er your barks I wound,

²⁴No name shall but your own be found.

²⁵What wondrous life in this I lead!

²⁶Ripe apples drop about my head;

²⁷The luscious clusters of the vine

²⁸Upon my mouth do crush their wine;

²⁹The nectarine and curious peach

³⁰Into my hands themselves do reach;

³¹Stumbling on melons as I pass,

³²Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.

³³Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less,

³⁴Withdraws into its happiness;

³⁵The mind, that ocean where each kind

³⁶Does straight its own resemblance find,

³⁷Yet it creates, transcending these,

³⁸Far other worlds, and other seas,

³⁹Annihilating all that's made

⁴⁰To a green thought in a green shade.

⁴¹Here at the fountain's sliding foot,

⁴²Or at some fruit tree's mossy root,

⁴³Casting the body's vest aside,

⁴⁴My soul into the boughs does glide;

⁴⁵There like a bird it sits and sings,

⁴⁶Then whets, and combs its silver wings;

⁴⁷And, till prepared for longer flight,

⁴⁸Waves in its plumes the various light.

⁴⁹Such was that happy garden-state,

⁵⁰While man there walked without a mate;

⁵¹After a place so pure and sweet,

⁵²What other help could yet be meet!

⁵³But 'twas beyond a mortal's share

⁵⁴To wander solitary there:

⁵⁵Two paradises 'twere in one

⁵⁶To live in paradise alone.

⁵⁷How well the skilful gardener drew

⁵⁸Of flowers and herbs this dial new,

⁵⁹Where from above the milder sun

⁶⁰Does through a fragrant zodiac run;

⁶¹And as it works, the industrious bee

⁶²Computes its time as well as we.

⁶³How could such sweet and wholesome hours

⁶⁴Be reckoned but with herbs and flowers!