Away with you, plausible rhymes, that come to me unbidden,
I listen for little sounds that are shy and hidden,
Away to the poets’ pastures, all too mettlesome steeds,
Halting, pausing footsteps suffice for my needs.
Only to echo for a moment
The rock-garden’s toy-symphony.
To voice the persistence of a sessile veronica
Or the pearly shadows of a dwarf campanula.
The peeping of a shy saxifrage
Or a stone-pillowed androsace.
But how to perpetuate –
(Stockstill now and awestruck)
By means of any hieroglyph
The deep, the living azure of the dark blue gentian?
From a Garden in the Antipodes (Sidgwick & Jackson, 1929)