It's only a tiny Garden,
Where the commonest flowers blow,
Where tangled vines are straying,
and shrubs all wayward grow.
and shrubs all wayward grow.
No trim or stately hedges
border our Garden path,
border our Garden path,
No rare or lovely blossoms
with strange new names it hath...
with strange new names it hath...
They are flower friends loyal,
returning year by year,
returning year by year,
Never from summer sowing,
comes bloom that's quite so dear.
comes bloom that's quite so dear.
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