A Tulip Garden
Guarded within the old red wall’s embrace,Marshalled like soldiers in gay company,The tulips stand arrayed. Here infantryWheels out into the sunlight. What bold graceSets off their tunics, white with crimson lace!Here are platoons of gold-frocked cavalry,With scarlet sabres tossing in the eyeOf purple batteries, every gun in place.Forward they come, with flaunting colours spread,With torches burning, stepping out in timeTo some quick, unheard march. Our ears are dead,We cannot catch the tune. In pantomimeParades that army. With our utmost powersWe hear the wind stream through a bed of flowers.
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