They’re Words and They Rhyme

Clematis

I do not own laburnums bred and arched
And forced and bent and formed to formal terraces;
No ramrod rows of roses straight and starched,
Nor ancient groves coralled at England’s genesis.
Such regiments of nature seem to me
No testament to nature’s true imperatives –
Give me a leafy mess where bumbles be
With at its heart a bright, imperfect clematis.

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