Rose-Bay Willow-Herb

By Ian Dewhirst, Keighley

In garden-ends that we did not disturb
With our spades last spring
Taking advantage, rose-bay willow-herb
Your ranks are flourishing
Coming uncalled-for, burning with your pride
And straight as grenadiers
Quite crowding out the land I set aside
For beans in other years.

Often, defiant, I have sickled you
And shall do so again
But I can never, swinging, cut you through
Without a touch of pain
For, rose-bay willow-herb, I’d rather see
Your tall bright troop stand there
And mock me with your health and dignity
Than garden-ends were bare.

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