Songs of the Garden

Anna Lena Phillips Bell
What’s wrong, 
handsome small farmer?
Heron stopping, 
pony stopping—
magic—



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Healthy, educated maiden,
she would serve you a rough half-bushel—
cockle soup, a brew,
the water in which the puddings had been cooked



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Remember, pilgrim: not the clothes, the road.

Pass between two hills’ breadth.

Put wind into the wish.



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Mischance fall upon them who avoid the conflict:
the fork of their breeches
tied in a bundle



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Manage cheerfully, 
two by two: 
cock and gander, 
dove and dragon.



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Defied book-knowledge—
Taught the garden—



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A compact: 
first, housewifely tasks; then,
much ale.