STANLEY PARK

The spongy moss beneath the lingering foot,
On byways of the tangled fern and root,
O a dark damp smell the forest flings,
Avenued by creeping crawling things;
A lovers' paradise, Nature's pond,
An open road for the Sunday Vagabond,
A childhood wonderland of bears and slides,
A sportsman's club, the honeymoon for brides,
Youth's own garden, beauty's breast,
Beneath the evening paper an old man's rest.
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