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Miguel de Cervantes

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You're leaping over the hedge before you come to the stile.
--
Part I, Book III, ch. 4.

 
Miguel de Cervantes

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But just as the world grew right again,
We heard a wanderer out on the plain
Singing what none of us understood;
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But perhaps I lack the gift. I see I've described her as being like a sword. That's true as far as it goes. But utterly inadequate by itself, and misleading. I ought to have said 'But also like a garden. Like a nest of gardens, wall within wall, hedge within hedge, more secret, more full of fragrant and fertile life, the further you explore.'
And then, of her, and every created thing I praise, I should say 'in some way, in its unique way, like Him who made it.'
Thus up from the garden to the Gardener, from the sword to the Smith. to the life-giving Life and the Beauty that makes beautiful.

 
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I'm sitting on the stile, Mary,
Where we sat side by side.

 
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Love thy Neighbor ; but cut not up thy Hedge for him.

 
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