The charm of Kensington Gardens, with its beautiful walks and
secluded sylvan nooks--the happy hunting-ground of London children
and the home of 'Peter Pan'--has inspired many writers to sing its
praises:

In this lone, open glade I lie,
Screen'd by deep boughs on either hand;
And at its end, to stay the eye,
Those black-crown'd, red-boled pine trees stand!

Birds here make song, each bird has his,
Across the girding city's hum.
How green under the boughs it is!
How thick the tremulous sheep cries come!

Here at my feet what wonders pass,
What endless, active life is here!
What blowing daisies, fragrant grass!
An air-stirred forest, fresh and clear.
MATTHEW ARNOLD

Beaconsfield spoke of its "sublime sylvan solitude superior to the
cedars of Lebanon, and inferior only in extent to the chestnut
forests of Anatolia."

Kensington Palace was the birthplace of Queen Victoria, and in the
garden walks she used to play, little knowing that she would one day
be Queen of England. Her doll's house and toys are still preserved
in the rooms which she inhabited as a little girl.