To A Plant Poem by Christopher Laverty

The bee-loved foxgloves could not charm the mead -
geraniums their full-lipped petals fend
against first frosts - bright roses not ascend
the cottage arbours - if they did not feed;
the peonies' brief buddings won't succeed,
nor irises, round the borders, with them blend -
yet there are plants I have not need to tend,
and you - my friend - are such a one indeed.
Whether the soil is damp or parched from drought -
like spring you're always fresh - my kindred fellow;
if no sun's near, your stems won't seek it out;
your leaves shall never wilt, grow sere or yellow,
but ever crown the garden - standing stout
through all four seasons - leaves no autumns mellow.