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.