Poem a Day VII

Le Petit Potager

A row of pots upon the sill:
a little thyme, a touch of dill,
a peppermint, Saint Joseph's wort
or basil, if our names are short,
and anthos fair, called rosmarine,
like misty sea with dewy sheen,
which grows wherever lady rules,
and marjoram both dry and cool
with country kin, oregano,
and sage, and savory, here will grow;
all Lamiaceae, each in place,
with whorls of five like all their race,
or lemon beebrush spiking high
and other cousins growing nigh --
all souvenirs from paradise,
an Eden rich beyond all price.