My Mother's Garden

 My Mother's Garden 

Jessie Goddard Broman 

Today, in thinking, suddenly I knew 

The secret of her garden and its ways; 

Why all the curly roots made haste and grew 

And were the first to start their blossom days. 

Her pinks would hurry into spicy growing 

While still the iris purpled lovely banners; 

And past the time for poppies to be going 

The petals quite forgot their garden manners. 

For I remember how she used to talk 

To pansies that looked up with childlike faces; 

She knelt to touch them by the garden walk 

And all their beauty took on added graces. 

Now this one thing at last I surly know.... 

Flowers, like children, must have love to grow.