Wild ThingsSome grace that passersby deride, Some wild sweet grace may grow inside Its dense unpruned secluding wall. They want my lawn like forty lawns They see. My high untrammelled grass I love, but citizens who pass Would have it cut. Each morning dawns Upon new cornflower, marigold, Or cosmos in surprising spot. Brave volunteers from last year's crop, Unplanned and cared-for dare unfold. And God, who lets wild things grow tall Can always look in from above. He let Some wild sweet grace of nature give Great Bernhardt to the world. And all His laws did not prevent some mad Untrammelled passion giving earth The gift of Leonardo's birth. My hedge is growing tall. I'm glad. __Margaret E. Haughawout. |
Sheep's Clothing
Margaret E. Haughawout
Page 52
(Pittsburg, Kansas: __. 1929)
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