Which the perfection of His skill
Had planted; yet there was a blight
On the ground, a frost in the air;
Sin was in the garden.
Yet He gave promises of life.
And there was fruitfulness to God
From a Man whose perfect life
Met its denouement there.
She came to the garden,
Darkness around, winter in her mind;
He found her
And noonday light and summer sun
Pierced her and embraced her.
And the valley was verdant,
The vine budded,
The pomegranates blossomed.
The love and life of the garden
I would be interested in any opinions on the two garden poems.