THE GARDEN by KATHARINE TYNAN

@3OUR LORD, Christ Jesus, Son of God,
Loved gardens while on earth He abode.@1

There was a garden where He took
His pleasures oft, by Kedron's brook.
There in his uttermost agony
He found a pillow whereon to lie
And anguish while His disciples slept.
Be sure the little grass-blades kept
Vigil with Him, and the grey olives
Shivered and sighed like one that grieves,
And the flowers hid their eyes for fear!
His garden was His comforter.
There to the quiet heart He made,
He came, and it upheld His head
Before the angel did. Therefore
Blessed be gardens evermore!

Christ Jesus in the sad world's dearth
Lay three days in the lap of earth.
And while He lay, stabbed through, one wound,
The garden waited tear-bedrowned,
Quiet from sunrise to sunrise.
The widowed flowers had veiled their eyes;
Nor Canterbury bells did ring;
Nor rose lift her burnt-offering;
Nor primroses nor violets,
Nor sops-in-wine nor mignonettes,
But thought upon the thorns and spears
And on the blessed Mary's tears.
All in a Truce of God,—a peace,—
The garden rocked Him on her knees.

But oh! in the beautiful rose-red day
Who comes a-walking down this way?
Why's Magdalen weeping? Ah, sweet lady,
She knows not where is her Lord's Body!
Sweet Magdalen, see! here is your Love!
Whom Solomon's-seal and the sweet-clove
Brush with their lips as He goes by;
And love-lies-bleeding and rosemary.
Now bid His disciples haste! Bring hither
His Mother and St. John together!
@3But'twas the Garden saw Him rise.@1
Wherefore she flaunts her peacock eyes;
Wherefore her birds sing low and loud.
The heart that bore His sleep is proud.

@3Because the garden was His friend
Blessed be gardens world without end.@1
Amen.

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