Page:Collected poems Robinson, Edwin Arlington.djvu/373

 "Now first we fence the garden through, With this for me and that for you," Said Oliver.—"Divine!" said Oakes, "And I, while I raise artichokes, Will do what I was born to do."

"But this is not the soil, you know," Said Oliver, "to make them grow: The parent of us, who is dead, Compassionately shook his head Once on a time and told me so."

"I hear you, gentle Oliver," Said Oakes, "and in your character I find as fair a thing indeed As ever bloomed and ran to seed Since Adam was a gardener.

"Still, whatsoever I find there, Forgive me if I do not share The knowing gloom that you take on Of one who doubted and is done: For chemistry meets every prayer."

"Sometimes a rock will meet a plough," Said Oliver; "but anyhow 'Tis here we are, 'tis here we live, With each to take and each to give: There's no room for a quarrel now.

"I leave you in all gentleness To science and a ripe success. Now God be with you, brother Oakes, With you and with your artichokes: You have the vision, more or less."