The days of roses have ended my love,
They remind me of the scent of you.
The days of pure white Gardenias are gone,
They recall your breast and petal-soft skin.
The days of Frangipanis are banished,
They adorned your hair on our wedding day.
No more Nemesias and Snapdragons too,
That filled your gardens with delicate light.
Abandon the Asters and Forget-me-nots,
Sweet Peas and Bluebells and Freesias as well.
Turn your back on Lobelias and fragile Alyssum
Polyanthus and Sweet William and Stocks and Phlox.
In these struggling days of endless recall
All manner of beauty brings brine to the eyes.
Only one flower remains to be pondered at all,
Oleander is calling its Siren's song.