" 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."