Robert Horton Poet Rhyme

Garden, Garden

Garden, Garden 

Garden, garden, 
     mowed and swept,
Grasses green 
     and neatly kept, 
Where oft 
     a languid lover wept,
To kiss and part 
     as nature slept. 

Garden, garden, 
     where art thee? 
No flower bloom 
     nor spreading tree, 
'Tis shameful man, 
     technology 
That didst undermine 
     thou beauty. 

Garden, garden, 
     thine eyes are sore,
Upon the view 
     an ancient saw, 
'Tis leaves of green 
     and turf no more
But iron machines 
     and men of war. 

Garden, garden, 
     of you was said 
That the sky was blue 
     and roses red, 
But now young lovers
     share their bed
With flowers, trees 
     and men, all dead. 

© RJVHorton2015

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Frederic Parker December 10, 2015 at 1:32 PM Where have all the flowers gone long time ago..gone to graveyards every one..my first thought after reading your poetry it reminded me of the song..welcome to PS.look forward to reading more from you.