My Mother's Garden

My mother hastened in the spring
To sow petunia beds;
She planted coxcomb, quick to bring
A host of feath'ry heads,
She sought to cherish every thing
That brightened old homesteads.
My mother liked to fuss a bit
About her favorite flowers.
Ofttimes she chose to sit and knit
Through summer twilight hours;
She marked each moth that chanced to flit
Around these fragrant bowers.
Her hollyhocks had giant stalks;
The cannas grew so tall;
Primroses thrived along the walks;
Shrubs hid the garden wall.
Her garden was the kind that talks
From early spring till fall.

~ George Nicholas Rees