hyacinths and daffs in the flowerbed
those eager plantings of last summer's heat
they are the voices of our dearest dead
we have not asked just what the blossoms said
nor listened long to the black loamy beat
hyacinths and daffs in the flowerbed
have no regret nor signal any dread
their meaning is not evil it is sweet
they are the voices of our dearest dead
returning to us in the garden spread
in sudden colour in the light complete
hyacinths and daffs in the flowerbed
each shocking signal sent right to the head
and heart that with old sorrow is replete
these are the voices of our dearest dead
gone now but leaving us with souls full fed
since life refuses to accept defeat
hyacinths and daffs in the flowerbed
they are the voices of our dearest dead
2 comments:
Would it that I were allowed a garden!
Thank you both.
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