My garden is a melody that's sweetly sung in tune.
first Queen of Sweden
My garden is the Mary Rose that's newly sprung in June.
first Mary Rose
Ye flowery banks, how can ye blume sae fair?
first Winchester Cathedral
So fair art thou in spite of winter's blare.
first Julia Child
So, in defiance I shall grow thee in the sun,
first pumpkin plant
While the shifting sands o' life still sweetly run,
first lavender and aster
And the sultry suns of summer fame
Ripen berries to their fleeting flame.
* * *
With bending joints and drooping heads
The flowers begin to fail.
The colours sicken and fade to dead
And all grows wan and pale.
will make a man forget his woe;
will heighten all his joy;
will make the widow's heart to sing,
tho' the tear were in her eye.
borrowed from Burns