A groundhog ate my tulip bulbs
I saw him in the morn;
Their bursting heads
Had barely blazed
Their petals chewed, now torn;
Beauty has no special right
To bob upon the lawn
I hold their limpid tooth worked spears
And helpless glower and mourn.
The flower I thought to give to you
In tribute to your form
Was eaten by that waddling rat
Who sniffs the air with scorn.
The flower I thought to give to you In tribute to your form Was eaten by that waddling rat Who sniffs the air with scorn.... very telling poem. liked it very much dear poet..... thank you. tony
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh how lovely to find a poem here upon my visit. Hope you are doing ok my friend. XO