We Do Brown

 

Since you would be in Britain in the spring,

The states must suffer. Here we only have

The toughest daffodils, the snowdrops who,

More thew than delicacy, make a swift

And wan appearance; there, there is the show

Of countless flower, gaudy garden, green

Of glib variety. Here we do brown

In many ways. It does not tempt you, here,

Since you would be in Britain in the spring.

Remember us, who cannot tell the weed

From scrawny flower when we try to pluck

The memory of you. We cannot grow

What will not bloom. We cannot fertilize

The misplaced and misplanted; but we find,

Whatever we may look upon, the face

And color and soft scent of the Welsh rose.