C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.

Garden

God the first garden made, and the first city, Cain.

Cowley.

And add to these retired Leisure,
That in trim gardens takes his pleasure.

Milton.

The garden lies,
A league of grass, wash’d by a slow broad stream.

Tennyson.

My garden is a forest ledge
Which older forests bound;
The banks slope down to the blue lake-edge,
Then plunge to depths profound!

Emerson.

A little garden square and wall’d;
And in it throve an ancient evergreen,
A yew-tree, and all round it ran a walk
Of shingle, and a walk divided it.

Tennyson.

His gardens next your admiration call,
On every side you look, behold the wall!
No pleasing intricacies intervene,
No artful wildness to perplex the scene;
Grove nods at grove, each alley has a brother,
And half the platform just reflects the other.
The suffering eye inverted nature sees,
Trees cut to statues, statues thick as trees;
With here a fountain, never to be play’d,
And there a summer-house that knows no shade.

Pope.

A garden, sir, wherein all rainbowed flowers were heaped together.

Charles Kingsley.

The splash and stir
Of fountains spouted up and showering down
In meshes of the jasmine and the rose:
And all about us peal’d the nightingale,
Rapt in her song, and careless of the snare.

Tennyson.

An album is a garden, not for show
Planted, but use; where wholesome herbs should grow.

Charles Lamb.

Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse, too.

Cowper.

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