" What shall we plant for our Summer, my boy,-
Seeds of enchantment and seedlings of joy ?
Brave little cuttings of laughter and light ?
Then shall our Summer be flowery and bright."
"Nay! -You are wrong in your planting," said he,
" Have we not grass and the weeds and a tree ?
Why should we water and weary away
For sake of a flower that lives but a day!"
So she made gardens which he would not dig,
Tended her apricot, apple and fig.
Then, when one morning he chanced to appear,
Sadly he noticed - "No trespassing here."