FRANCE is planting her gardens, France is preparing her spring: Seeds in their long rows slumbering, Bulbs in their ranks outnumbering, For the brown beds' bordering; France is planting her gardens, France is preparing her spring, France—of the ermined lilies, France—of the Fleur-de-Lys; And royal still her will is, Say the stately Tuileries. Her crippled and maimed and broken Walk, smiling, in her sun; These are they who have spoken Her word by the lips of Verdun; Their little, gay children go leaping— Laugh loud from the merry-go-round; France has sown, for their reaping, The flowers of France that are sleeping Near by, in the warm, brown ground. France has planted her Garden, France has prepared her a Spring, All mankind for its warden, Love for its singing bird; Never the frost shall harden Earth that has in its keeping Seed sown there at her word, Never the birds take wing; Where the flower of France is sleeping That earth shall have her spring! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE INDIAN BURYING GROUND by PHILIP FRENEAU THE LOVER TO THE THAMES OF LONDON TO FAVOUR HIS LADY ... by GEORGE TURBERVILLE FOR A RETURN by A. A. ANDRIELLO THE REEDS by KONSTANTIN DMITRIYEVICH BALMONT |