The God of the Gardens, II

Respect, O Traveler, if my wrath you fear,
That humble roof of rush and flag above
A grandsire's and his children's mutual love;
He owns the close and spring that bubbles clear.

'Twas he who placed, amid the area here,
My emblem in the lime-tree's heart, to prove
His only God am I—sole guardian of
His orchard decked with flowers I hold most dear.

Rustic and poor, and yet devoted they;
For on my gaine they piously display
Poppy, green barley-ears and violet;

And twice a year, by knife of planter slain,
The rural altar with the blood is wet
Of youthful, bearded goat of potent strain.