Gardening imparts an organic perspective on the passage of time.
Spare feast! a radish and an egg.
How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude! But grant me still a friend in my retreat, whom I may whisper, solitude is sweet.
War's a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at.
Then liberty, like day, Breaks on the soul, and by a flash from Heaven Fires all the faculties with glorious joy.
Lord, it is my chief complaint, That my love is weak and faint; Yet I love thee and adore, Oh for grace to love thee more!