The Garden

    We owned a garden on a hill,
    We planted rose and daffodil,
    Flowers that English poets sing,
    And hoped for glory in the Spring.

    We planted yellow hollyhocks,
    And humble sweetly-smelling stocks,
    And columbine for carnival,
    And dreamt of Summer's festival.

    And Autumn not to be outdone
    As heiress of the summer sun,
    Should doubly wreathe her tawny head
    With poppies and with creepers red.

    We waited then for all to grow,
    We planted wallflowers in a row.
    And lavendar and borage blue,,
    Alas! we waited, I and you,
    But love was all that ever grew.

        Long Barn
        Summer, 1915