A poor old Widow in her weeds<br />Sowed her garden with wild-flower seeds;<br />Not too shallow, and not too deep,<br />And down came April -- drip -- drip -- drip.<br />Up shone May, like gold, and soon<br />Green as an arbour grew leafy June.<br />And now all summer she sits and sews<br />Where willow herb, comfrey, bugloss blows,<br />Teasle and pansy, meadowsweet,<br />Campion, toadflax, and rough hawksbit;<br />Brown bee orchis, and Peals of Bells;<br />Clover, burnet, and thyme she smells;<br />Like Oberon's meadows her garden is<br />Drowsy from dawn to dusk with bees.<br />Weeps she never, but sometimes sighs,<br />And peeps at her garden with bright brown eyes;<br />And all she has is all she needs --<br />A poor Old Widow in her weeds.