by Cecil Day-Lewis

In June we picked the clover,
And sea-shells in July:
There was no silence at the door,
No word from the sky.
A hand came out of August
And flicked his life away:
We had not time to bargain, mope,
Moralize, or pray.


As featured on
The Daily Gardener podcast:

Words inspired by the garden are the sweetest, most beautiful words of all.
Cecil-Day Lewis
Cecil-Day Lewis