Classic Poem

This morning, in my garden,
In my November garden,
I found a larkspur blossoming,
A lovely, radiant, blue thing.
It swayed and shone,
And did not seem to know
It was alone
In my November garden
Where dry, dead leaves are falling
And all the birds have flown.

The lilac is a sturdy tree,
She finds her green leaves earlier
And holds them more tenaciously
Than trees of weaker character.
The lilac branches seemed to stir
And signal to the larkspur,
And then I saw a little flame
That stirred among the leaves and came
In four nasturtium flowers, that said
" Cheer up! Your garden isn't dead! "

This morning, in my garden,
In my November garden,
Orange, blue and green
Were to be seen.

Now Summer has gone by
And falling leaves disclose
The empty nests where late
Glad songs arose,
The birds and Summer went
A way that no man knows.
But here is honey that

No bee will find.
No bird will linger at
This larkspur cup.
This grace the hummingbird
Has left behind.
Summer went away
And gave it up.
Yet it is bravely blue,
Swinging there alone
As if to challenge you!