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Edwin Arlington Robinson - The Garden

There is a fenceless garden overgrown 
With buds and blossoms and all sorts of leaves; 
And once, among the roses and the sheaves, 
The Gardener and I were there alone. 
He led me to the plot where I had thrown
The fennel of my days on wasted ground, 
And in that riot of sad weeds I found 
The fruitage of a life that was my own. 

My life! Ah, yes, there was my life, indeed! 
And there were all the lives of humankind;
And they were like a book that I could read, 
Whose every leaf, miraculously signed, 
Outrolled itself from Thoughtís eternal seed. 
Love-rooted in Godís garden of the mind. 

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Added: Jun 3 2005 | Viewed: 5357 times | Comments and analysis of The Garden by Edwin Arlington Robinson Comments (0)

The Garden - Comments and Information

Poet: Edwin Arlington Robinson
Poem: The Garden
Poem of the Day: Oct 25 2005
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