My Garden

My garden's full of many things
likely to impress
And my mouth is full of many things
which I wish to profess
But I haven't got the flower and I haven't got the ear
the former the most lovely and the latter them to hear
My garden's full of many things
likely to impress
great stands of fragrant citrus trees beneath which I may rest
and eat their fruits and dream my dreams
there's no question that I'm blessed
For it's eternal spring-time
and the sky is always blue
the breeze is always gentle
and the flowers always bloom
and their beaming faces greet me as I move along my way
amidst the beds of poppies and through shade where violets lay
and 'neath the heads of sunflowers and o'er a sea of white
of clover swaying sweetly in the lazy, hazy light
Yes, my garden's full of many things
likely to impress
and hasn't a single sickly weed worthy of redress
But it hasn't got the flower that I hold to be most dear
and though I've many listeners
I've words that they can't hear
They come in fragrant phrases, they come at whispered whims
they explode like pyrotechnics, they sing like Seraphim
I try my best to lull them, to keep them held at bay
I chain them down, I bribe and beg
but they won't be locked away!
they fight and twist and pinch and punch 'till I must yield and have them said
They tumble out and give their show
but I haven't got those ears, you know
so neither they nor I win in the long run
Oh, my garden's full of many things
likely to impress
and my mouth is full of many things
which wish to be professed
But the garden stands for nothing and the words just sound absurd
when the former's something lacking and the latter go unheard