Claire and I walk through Marvell's gardens, stumbling over melons, and chat about: irony vs sincerity, carpe diem, time's winged chariot, the power of imagination, daily falls from Eden, variation in prosody, and more. We briefly lament the difficulties of "Upon Appleton House," and ask how private a poem can get and still be great. Also, a fit of hubris comes over me, and I end up, for some reason, reading some of my own poetry.