A Widows Weeds
Walter De La Mare
A poor old widow in her weeds,
Sowed her garden with wild-flower seeds,
Not too shallow, and not too deep,
And down came April drip-drip-drip.
Up shone May, like gold, and soon
Green as an arbour grew leafy June.
And now all Summer she sits and sews
Where willow herb, comfrey, bugloss blows,
Teasle and tansy, meadowsweet,
Campion, toadflax, and rough hawksbit,
Brown bee orchid, and Peals of Bells,
Clover, burnet, and thyme she smells,
Like Oberons meadows her garden is
Drowsy from dawn till dusk with bees.
Weeps she never, but sometimes sighs,
And peeps at her garden with bright brown eyes,
A poor old Widow in her weeds.
Another day in glorious Swaledale, this time closer to Richmond. Plenty of wildflowers and weeds, berries and garden escapees to see. A little more ‘on track’ for this horticulturally-themed ‘blog, but then again –