Our Dear Spirea

Spent this morning reading too much the romantics, and then remembered Christine had me take picture of her garden bushes last month.

Our Dear Spirea

From a baby curved tiny bean
  Had our little moppet grown,
‘Till into the hearty soil
  We her rooted feet made sown

She grew an inch a day it seemed
  Her arms widened to great boughs,
She was schooled in Nature’s boarding house,
  But she kept her own ways through

She soon timely showed her promises
  Her chest and fingers made to bud,
And when all her snow white blossoms bloomed
  All the boys turned into wood

As her long white train became a
  Flowing bridal veil of virtue,
Up the skunk dug up her heart,
  Him promising "I won’t hurt you,"

Was then Olde Warlock Time began
  To snip by day her nurturing flowers,
Until her bare bone boughs grew dry
  And she graft to her Saviors powers