If I was a passionate planter,
I’d pluck and pierce in every canter,
I’d rip the flowers from the earth,
and graciously give them a better birth.
I’d despel the daunting, douring weeds,
and cast caution and capsule all the seeds,
certing them a section of gaintly ground,
a rapturious remedy soon be found.
In a second, slugs would sleeze,
and off offending I would ease,
a garden gentry, to tend, to sow,
and family of flowers fondly would we grow.
This poem can be read here- http://poetry.com/poems/150312