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Nature, like man, sometimes weeps from gladness.
Nature, like man, sometimes weeps from gladness.
The landscape should belong to the people who see it all the time.
The landscape should belong to the people who see it all the time.
The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
I trust in Nature for the stable laws
Of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant
And Autumn read more
I trust in Nature for the stable laws
Of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant
And Autumn garner to the end of time.
I trust in God--the right shall be the right
And other than the wrong, while he endures;
I trust in my own soul, that can perceive
The outward and the inward, Nature's good
And God's.
The coconut trees, lithe and graceful, crowd the beach like a minuet of slender elderly virgins adopting flippant poses.
The coconut trees, lithe and graceful, crowd the beach like a minuet of slender elderly virgins adopting flippant poses.
One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off read more
One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off living. We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon instead of enjoying the roses that are blooming outside our windows today.
Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse too.
Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse too.
You can live for years next door to a big pine tree, honored to have so venerable a neighbor, even read more
You can live for years next door to a big pine tree, honored to have so venerable a neighbor, even when it sheds needles all over your flowers or wakes you, dropping big cones onto your deck at still of night.
And how should a beautiful, ignorant stream of water know it heads for an early release - out across the read more
And how should a beautiful, ignorant stream of water know it heads for an early release - out across the desert, running toward the Gulf, below sea level, to murmur its lullaby, and see the Imperial Valley rise out of burning sand with cotton blossoms, wheat, watermelons, roses, how should it know?
