In My Garden

In my garden, there are flowers
That over grow the Southern bower
And when the wind from the west blow fair, the purfurm fills the air,
With flaxen hair and eyes of blue
So my thoughts will turn to you
Brave of heart, strong and true.

And by the bower of roses red
There's one lays down her aching head
And weeps, for never more will laughter ring
Or songs be sung, or dreams be spun
No nevermore can her ears and eyes
Behold the sight of the lad she loved.
Nevermore the sweet whistle hear
To let her know that he was near
Brave of heart and strong and true
With flaxen hair and eyes of blue.

And so she'll wait by the rosy bower
The day will wake to the evening hour
And wafting down the summer air
Will come the sound of a whistle there
Alas, just when in the barnyard door
He'll come no more, no nevermore.


- Joan Konkin, 2007

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