Now comes that season of the year

When in my mind's eye there appear

Rock gardens where the roses stood,

And arbors built of cedar wood.

These are the days when I devise

A lawn of another shape and size,

And plan some blooms of lavender

Where heretofore green bushes were.

I'll seed this bed and spade up that.

I'll move the bench whereon we sat

Last summer. I'll arrange the vines

In more unusual designs. . . .

This is the time of year I show

My wife my plans, and she says, "No."