Why in my neighbour's garden <br />Are the flowers more sweet than mine? <br />I had never such bloom of roses, <br />Such yellow and pink woodbine. <br />Why in my neighbour's garden <br />Are the fruits all red and gold, <br />While here the grapes are bitter <br />That hang for my fingers' hold? <br />Why in my neighbour's garden <br />Do the birds all fly to sing? <br />Over the fence between us <br />One would think 'twas always spring. <br />I thought my own wide garden <br />Once more sweet and fair than all, <br />Till I saw the gold and crimson <br />Just over my neighbour's wall. <br />But now I want his thrushes, <br />And now I want his vine, <br />If I cannot have his cherries <br />That grow more red than mine. <br /> <br />The serpent 'neath his apples <br />Will tempt me to my fall, <br />And then—I'll steal my neighbour's fruit <br />Across the garden wall.<br /><br />Dora Sigerson Shorter<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-neighbors-garden/
