For a long time it takes
Like a little shepherd's crook
Its skinny greenish stem
Its bowing head passing
Like a question mark in the grass
From which dangle loosely
Seed-like flower-heads
Still in their fetal stages
If I remember rightly it only
Blooms at the end of summer
When everything else is dying
And the garden looks like
Kingdom Come it comes
Having overcome its dangling
With the luster of its bells
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