Robert Louis Stevenson > A Child’s Garden of Verses and Underwoods > VII. To a Gardener
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Stevenson, Robert Louis (1850–1894).  A Child’s Garden of Verses and Underwoods.  1913.
  
VII. To a Gardener

FRIEND, in my mountain-side demesne, 
My plain-beholding, rosy, green 
And linnet-haunted garden-ground, 
Let still the esculents abound. 
Let first the onion flourish there,         5
Rose among roots, the maiden-fair, 
Wine-scented and poetic soul 
Of the capacious salad bowl. 
Let thyme the mountaineer (to dress 
The tinier birds) and wading cress,  10
The lover of the shallow brook, 
From all my plots and borders look. 
Nor crisp and ruddy radish, nor 
Pease-cods for the child’s pinafore 
Be lacking; nor of salad clan  15
The last and least that ever ran 
About great nature’s garden-beds. 
Nor thence be missed the speary heads 
Of artichoke; nor thence the bean 
That gathered innocent and green  20
Outsavours the belauded pea. 
These tend, I prithee; and for me, 
Thy most long-suffering master, bring 
In April, when the linnets sing 
And the days lengthen more and more,  25
At sundown to the garden door. 
And I, being provided thus, 
Shall, with superb asparagus, 
A book, a taper, and a cup 
Of country wine, divinely sup.
LA SOLITUDE, HYÈRES.
  30

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