Marigolds

With a fork drive Nature out,   She will ever yet return;   Hedge the flowerbed all about,   Pull or stab or cut or burn,   She will ever yet return.   Look: the constant marigold   Springs again from hidden roots.   Baffled gardener, you behold   New beginnings and new shoots   Spring again from hidden roots.

Pull or stab or cut or burn,   They will ever yet return.
Gardener, cursing at the weed,   Ere you curse it further, say:   Who but you planted the

In my fertile heart, one day?   Ere you curse me further, say!   New beginnings and new shoots   Spring again from hidden roots.   Pull or stab or cut or burn,

Love must ever yet return.