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And there you'll see the gardeners, the men and 'prentice

boys

Told off to do as they are bid and do it without noise;

For, except when seeds are planted and we shout to scare the birds,

The Glory of the Garden it abideth not in words.

And some can pot begonias and some can bud a rose,
And some are hardly fit to trust with anything that grows;
But they can roll and trim the lawns and sift the sand and

loam,

For the Glory of the Garden occupieth all who come.

Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not made
By singing:-"Oh, how beautiful!" and sitting in the shade,
While better men than we go out and start their working lives
At grubbing weeds from gravel-paths with broken dinner-
knives.

There's not a pair of legs so thin, there's not a head so thick, There's not a hand so weak and white, nor yet a heart so sick, But it can find some needful job that's crying to be done, For the Glory of the Garden glorifieth every one.

Then seek your job with thankfulness and work till further orders,

If it's only netting strawberries or killing slugs on borders; And when your back stops aching and your hands begin to

harden,

You will find yourself a partner in the Glory of the Garden.

Oh, Adam was a gardener, and God who made him sees That half a proper gardener's work is done upon his knees, So when your work is finished, you can wash your hands and

pray

For the Glory of the Garden that it may not pass away!
And the Glory of the Garden it shall never pass away!

GREAT-HEART

(THEODORE ROOSEVELT IN 1919)

The Interpreter then called for a man-servant of his, one Great-Heart."

-Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress."

CONCERNING brave Captains

Our age hath made known.

For all men to honour,

One standeth alone,

Of whom, o'er both oceans
Both Peoples may say:
"Our realm is diminished
With Great-Heart away."

In purpose unsparing,

In action no less,

The labours he praised

He would seek and profess
Through travail and battle,
At hazard and pain.

And our world is none the braver
Since Great-Heart was ta'en!

Plain speech with plain folk,
And plain words for false things,
Plain faith in plain dealing

"Twixt neighbours or kings
He used and he followed,

However it sped.

Oh, our world is none more honest
Now Great-Heart is dead!

The heat of his spirit

Struck warm through all lands; For he loved such as showed 'Emselves men of their hands; In love, as in hate,

Paying home to the last.

But our world is none the kinder Now Great-Heart hath passed!

Hard-schooled by long power,
Yet most humble of mind
Where aught that he was
Might advantage mankind.
Leal servant, loved master,
Rare comrade, sure guide
Oh, our world is none the safer
Now Great-Heart hath died!

Let those who would handle
Make sure they can wield
His far-reaching sword

And his close-guarding shield; For those who must journey Henceforward alone

Have need of stout convoy
Now Great-Heart is gone.

THE END

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Abdhur Rahman, the Durani Chief, of him is the story told.

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About the time that taverns shut

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Across a world where all men grieve

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After the burial-parties leave

365

After the sack of the City when Rome was sunk to a name

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"And some are sulky, while some will plunge.

And they were stronger hands than mine

As Adam lay a-dreaming beneath the Apple Tree

"'As anybody seen Bill 'Awkins?"

As I was spittin' into the Ditch aboard the Crocodile,

As I left the Halls at Lumley, rose the vision of a comely

As our mother the Frigate, bepainted and fine,

As the dawn was breaking the Sambhur belled-

At Runnymede, at Runnymede,

At the close of a winter day,

At the hole where he went in

At times when under cover I 'ave said,

At two o'clock in the morning, if you open your window and listen,

'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor.

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Broke to every known mischance, lifted over all

Beneath the deep verandah's shade,

Between the waving tufts of jungle-grass,

Beyond the path of the outmost sun through utter darkness hurled-
"Blessed be the English and all their ways and works. .

Boanerges Blitzen, servant of the Queen,

Boh Da Thone was a warrior bold:

Brethren, how shall it fare with me

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72

634

95

571

19

283

376

335

Buy my English posies! .

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By the Hoof of the Wild Goat uptossed

690

By the Laws of the Family Circle 'tis written in letters of brass

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,.

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Cry "Murder" in the market-place, and each

Dark children of the mere and marsh,

Dawn off the Foreland-the young flood making

Delilah Aberyswith was a lady-not too young-

Dim dawn behind the tamarisks-the sky is saffron-yellow-

Duly with knees that feign to quake-

'E was warned agin 'er-

Eddi, priest of St. Wilfrid

England's on the anvil-hear the hammers ring-

Er-Heb beyond the Hills of Ao-Safai

573

635

693

61

359

509

581

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Ere Mor the Peacock flutters, ere the Monkey People cry,.

Ere the steamer bore him Eastward, Sleary was engaged to marry

Excellent herbs had our fathers of old-

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For our white and our excellent nights--for the nights of swift running, 707

For the sake of him who showed

For things we never mention,

From the wheel and the drift of Things

Full thirty foot she towered from waterline to rail.

Gay go up and gay go down..

Go, stalk the red deer o'er the heather,

God gave all men all earth to love,

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