Its windows blown by wind and rain,
down the lanes where no-one came,
an ancient ruined cottage stood
with tumbled walls, close by the wood.

The cottage garden growing wild
with warring flowers unreconciled
was all a tangle, intertwined,
with paths and borders undefined

Columbine closed up the doors,
Ivy crept across the floors.
The roses grew all over-blown
Claiming all the walls their own.

Delphiniums, for summer skies,
near the solemn peonies rise.
Hollyhock o’er-towers them all
and Jasmin scents the evenings fall.

In this riotous throng of flowers
the faeries come to spend their hours.
They crown themselves with daisy chains
as sunlight spreads its last remains.

As evening falls they make their way
with gentle steps at close of day
to the bed they much prefer
beneath the sleepy lavender.