GROWTH IN MAY

I enter a daisy-and-buttercup land, And thence thread a jungle of grass: Hurdles and stiles scarce visible stand Above the lush stems as I pass.

Hedges peer over, and try to be seen, And seem to reveal a dim sense That amid such ambitious and elbow-high green They make a mean show as a fence.

Elsewhere the mead is possessed of the neats, That range not greatly above The rich rank thicket which brushes their teats, And HER gown, as she waits for her Love.