Lands made too change,Please but not my heartsease,
It is the soil which remains,
Belonging to no one,
That is the sign spring will play,
Heartsease such charm and plenty,
This wildflower of antiquity,
As well beauty among the beasts,
Fields and pastures when long ago grazed,
Cool brooding meadows once stood,
Forest hold onto your foot,
Purpled-blues and buttery dollops,
They have tasted your magic and frolic,
Sweet dainty petals of tiny heartsease,
The fallow grasses hold this precious flora,
As your flowers are too please,
Finding you again makes my heart at ease.
No comments:
Post a Comment