Love in an Herb Garden
Love in an Herb GardenUnder September’s temperate Westering sunThe garden slumbers and is overrunWhere the sun was bright as goldenrodWe found that love’s the only garden God. I was the scarlet runner who ran downYour columbine, no sage was I but clown,A common fennel, wild in a wild thyme,Who comfrey found to salsify his prime. You were my lovage – sweet as corianderYou were my applemint and my pomander;Your maidenhair unshorn, your aspect calmAnd to my catmint stare your eyes were balm. Alas, a black horehound was on our trackWormwood and baneberry launched their attackMy love lay bleeding then and turned to rueAnd where the basil shone, the mugwort grew. The celandine deflowered and shrivelled upElder and bitter bane were in my cupAngelica whose colours had been fineTurned nicotine – as did my columbine. And yet when Spring with customary rainWakens the herbs, I know we will love againAnd in the middle of the brick lined townThe God of gardens turn us upside down.
