My very own

They are waiting for me there in a weedy border, Heliotrope, alyssum, shy mignonette, And the litte spice-sweet pinks. I see them perplexed; I know they wonder, ''Where is the one who faithfully came to weed?'' They have never heard of tropic isles And cannot know that of late I have given my heart away to bolder bloom, To flamboyant, bright hibiscus and heady frangipani And to haunting citrus flowers. Yet they are waiting for me in a weedy border Serene and patient and lovely, My very own from flower to seed to flower, And they will mend in kind my weedy spirit On the golden day I come again to weed the border.

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