MY BABY'S GARDEN

My baby has a garden,

“Planted” four days ago,

And nearly half his waking hours

He spends among his precious flowers

With sprinkling can and hoe.

My baby has a garden,

And Oh, how proud he is

When, yielding to his pleading, we

Lay work aside and go to see

This masterpiece of his!

Behold my baby's garden,

Close by a rubbish pile!

Look at the sprinkling can and hoe

And flowers; then tell me if you know

Whether to sigh or smile.

The flowers in baby's garden,

Flat on the ground they lie,

Two hyacinths, a withered pair,

Plucked from the pile of rubbish, where

They had been left to die.

The flowers in baby's garden,

“Planted” four days ago,

Grow every hour a sadder sight,

Weaker and sicklier, in spite

Of sprinkling can and hoe.