"The Poet's garden is the world,
Or where in pomp the clouds are hurled
In wreaths of glory, high upborne !
Sun, moon, and stars ; the dewy morn,
The lark's loud lay ; all fragrant flowers,
The fleecy winter summer's showers ;
All blend harmonious in his verse
His garden is the UNIVERSE !"
James Rigg (1897)
Print Available - Here