My sister gave me the book Romance in the Garden by John H. Tobe
in June for my birthday.
I began reading it recently and am not too far along yet but already totally in love with it
because of little chapters like the one below
This soil we till where want and will
Bequeaths hope’s hearty toil
Yields far more than the crops we plan
As we gather its spoil
Sweat of the brow, push of the plow
‘Neath summer’s sprawling hue
Begets far more than gifted snore
When workaday is through
In the employ of grief and joy’s
Incumbent aftermath
We pause awhile to smile and smile
At blooms along the path
And in the wake of give and take
We come to realize
The trophy of a work worn glove
Makes more beloved the prize
For there we heard the singing bird
While bending to the task
And as we knelt, ah, there we felt
God close enough to ask
And there we learned respect is earned
This no one can demand
And there we find few things as kind
As that of helping hand
…or how the thrill of the downhill
Is not without the climb
and what we choose midst dreams and dues
Becomes how we spend time
How moments spill a plot we till
With what none can uproot
From One who grants far more than plants
As seed unfurls its fruit
© Janet Martin
Do not be deceived, God is not mocked;
for whatever a man sows, that he will also reap.
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!