Wild gardens are a controversial subject among gardening enthusiasts these days. Here, Garfield Taylor assumes the mantle of the wild garden itself, to extol its charms. His poem comes from his nature-focused collection, White Horses, published by the Book Guild in 2016 at £12.99. There is a freshness and an affection about the litany of flowering plants, official or not.

LESLEY DUNCAN

THE WILD GARDEN

I knew a garden, wild and free,

Where wild flowers shared their pedigree;

With Marguerite and Columbine,

Where Crocus grew with Celandine,

And room was made for all that came,

For I knew every one by name.

The grass grew tall and sent up sprays

Of seed that swayed in the passing wind;

Blue Californian Hyacinths,

Nasturtia winding round a plinth

Of Roman rocks set in a wall;

Orange trumpets free-for-all.

In borders edged with London Pride,

Foxglove and Lupin stood side by side;

Sweet William, Mint and pale Harebell,

Ladybird and Tortoiseshell;

And in a secret place I found

Bindweed and Honeysuckle intertwined.

From my slopes I sent down seed

That found good ground and was not weed:

Willow Herb and Thistledown,

Yellow Ragwort and Dandelion.

In amongst the flowers they fell;

Where they were I could not tell.

The wind and rain were friends to me,

Like the garden, they were wild and free.

I drank the rain whenever it fell,

And the wind drew whispers through my hair

Which turned to gold as the days grew long,

And I was there for everyone.