The Garden Song

I let him into my garden--
a bad mistake--
and what used to be lovely
has gone away.
Gone away, the sparrows
and the silver leaf plums.
Fruits have fallen wasted
and left spoiling in the sun.
Oh what a mess he made.
Oh what a mess he made.
Our shape in the lilies
crushed where we lay,
and withered went the roses,
thorns and shame.
Thorns and shame.
He took with him the rain.
He took what was lovely
and left me hollow here to waste.
Oh what a mess he made.
Oh what a mess he made.
He overturned the silver fountain
now its waters running mud,
and ruined all relfections
and ruined my love.
My love, my love,
down fell the doves,
gray-eyed and flightless,
down fell the doves.
Oh what a mess he made.
Oh what a mess he made.