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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 12, Issue 9 (December 1, 1937.)

[section]

My Garden.
Have you seen my pretty garden lying drenched in morning dew,
With its countless pansy faces, peeping shyly up at you?
Climbing roses nodding gaily by the latticed window ledge,
And blushing red geraniums nestling 'neath the Hawthorn hedge?
Have you seen my pretty garden on a warm Spring afternoon,
When it's musical with birds' sweet songs, and gay with flowers in bloom;
With purple crocus sentinels on guard 'neath cherry trees,
And the gleam of swaying daffodils,
ecstatic in the breeze?
Have you seen my pretty garden, just as day turns into night,
Lying hushed and very silent, in the dim and fading light;
When the birds have sought their nests, and the golden sunflowers close,
And butterflies lie sleeping in the heart of every rose?
Oh, my garden is a lovely thing, in sunshine or in rain,
With its power to ease my heart of all weariness and pain.
It is more than home—for somehow—I can always feel that He
Is walking in my garden, and is ever close to me.

—Dorothy Donaldson.