Gardener, poor gardener, you <br />who knew what you knew <br />gardener so rough at whom dogs only bark, <br />gods only laugh, the plot depends on you. <br /> <br />Gardener of jibes and jests <br />gardener, poor gardener, different <br />from the rest-you who knew what you heard <br />and staking your word, outstood delusion, <br /> <br />Outstood derision; How <br />the quacking heads tried to cry you down: <br />the countess, that dreamer, her Figaro, that schemer- <br />while the Count at least listened <br /> <br />When you described how suddenly the window <br />slid open and out in profusion flew notes- <br />heavenly ones at that, and then at the sash, Susanah's <br />hand, ushering out a lad <br /> <br />In military livery and a feather in his cap; <br />half leaping, half falling down, down <br />down to the manicured ground <br />he set out pell-mell for the town. <br /> <br />Sure you had a few-a wife to bear, a <br />daughter's saucy tongue to endure- <br />what else is new. But well you knew <br />and comprehension grew with every swill. <br /> <br />Gardener, poor gardener, you <br />who knew what you knew, for whom <br />the shining moon occasionally rose early, <br />the plot depends on you.<br /><br />robert dickerson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gardener-3/
