Had I the power that have the will, The enfeebled will—a modern curse— This book of mine should blossom still A perfect garden-ground of verse.
White placid marble gods should keep Good watch in every shadowy lawn; And from clean, easy-breathing sleep The birds should waken me at dawn.
—A fairy garden;—none the less Throughout these gracious paths of mine All day there should be free access For stricken hearts and lives that pine;
And by the folded lawns all day— No idle gods for such a land— All active Love should take its way With active Labour hand in hand.