Classic Poem

“In the long border on the right
I shall plant larkspur first,” she thinks.
“Peonies and chrysanthemums
And then sweet-scented maiden pinks.

“The border on the left shall hold
Nothing but masses of white phlox.
Forget-me-nots shall edge this one,
The one across be edged with box.

“The sun-dial in the centre stands.
The morning-glories bright shall twine.
And in the strip at either end
Shall grow great clumps of columbine.

“There is no garden in the world
So beautiful as mine,” she dreams.
Rising, she walks the little space
To where her narrow window gleams.

She gazes through the dingy pane
To where the street is noisy still,
And tends with pitiable care
A tulip on the window-sill.