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WELCOME TO THE GARDEN PAGE!
A GARDEN
Percy Bysshe Shelley
A sensitive plant in a garden grew,
And the young winds fed it with silver dew,
And it opened its fan-like leaves to the light,
And closed them beneath the kisses of night.
And the Spring arose on the garden fair,
And the Spirit of Love, fell everywhere;
And each flower and herb on Earth’s dark breast
Rose from the dreams of its wintry nest.
