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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 |