An Old-Fashioned Garden


Strange, is it not? She was making her garden,
Planting the old-fashioned flowers that day-
Bleeding-hearts tender and bachelors-buttons-
Spreading the seeds in the old-fashioned way.

Just in the old fashioned way, too, our quarrel
Grew until, angrily, she set me free-
Planting, indeed, bleeding hearts for the two of us,-
Ordaining bachelor’s buttons for me.

Envoi

Strange, was it not? But seeds planted in anger
Sour in the earth and, ere long, a decay
Withered the bleeding hearts, blighted the buttons,
And-we were wed-in the old-fashioned way.


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An Old-Fashioned Garden