How savory tis flora scented lust
When row upon row art weary trodden?
Gardens long denied parched worn abust,
Mine own love’s source of freedom to broaden.
Where ideals aching in thee art inclined,
A furtive tear dampening hallowed ground,
But defends that noble code stands the mind,
And echoed fanfares teeming strain in sound.
To pedals rising sunward lift thy voice,
Brightening the heart, as a flight of doves,
And by winged allure doth intrigue rejoice,
Lifting up beyond the pushes and shoves
Of daily life, like warm protective gloves
That holds my heart’s deep love beyond all loves.