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| GOOD is an Orchard, the Saint saith, |
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| To meditate on life and death, |
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| With a cool well, a hive of bees, |
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| A hermit’s grot below the trees. |
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| Good is an Orchard: very good, | 5 |
| Though one should wear no monkish hood; |
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| Right good when Spring awakes her flute, |
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| And good in yellowing time of fruit: |
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| Very good in the grass to lie |
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| And see the network ’gainst the sky, | 10 |
| A living lace of blue and green |
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| And boughs that let the gold between. |
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| The bees are types of souls that dwell |
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| With honey in a quiet cell; |
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| The ripe fruit figures goldenly | 15 |
| The soul’s perfection in God’s eye. |
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| Prayer and praise in a country home |
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| Honey and fruit: a man might come |
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| Fed on such meats to walk abroad |
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| And in his Orchard talk with God. | 20 |