Poem July 18, 1903 Issue

The Child in the Garden

Henry Van Dyke with contributions from Phillips Brooks, Ernest Renan

When to the garden of untroubled thought
I came of late, and saw the open door,
And wished again to enter, and explore
The sweet, wild ways with stainless bloom inwrought,
And bowers of innocence with beauty fraught,
It seemed some purer voice must speak before
I dared to tread that garden loved of yore,
That Eden lost unknown and found unsought.

Then just within the gate I saw a child,—
A stranger-child, yet to my heart most dear,—
He held his hands to me, and softly smiled
With eyes that knew no shade of sin or fear:
"Come in," he said, "and play a while with me;
I am the little child you used to be."

Henry Van Dyke.
In Atlantic Monthly.

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