My Baby's Garden

A poem by Ringgold Wilmer Lardner

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.

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