Gardener Poem by robert dickerson

Gardener, poor gardener, you
who knew what you knew
gardener so rough at whom dogs only bark,
gods only laugh, the plot depends on you.

Gardener of jibes and jests
gardener, poor gardener, different
from the rest-you who knew what you heard
and staking your word, outstood delusion,

Outstood derision; How
the quacking heads tried to cry you down:
the countess, that dreamer, her Figaro, that schemer-
while the Count at least listened

When you described how suddenly the window
slid open and out in profusion flew notes-
heavenly ones at that, and then at the sash, Susanah's
hand, ushering out a lad

In military livery and a feather in his cap;
half leaping, half falling down, down
down to the manicured ground
he set out pell-mell for the town.

Sure you had a few-a wife to bear, a
daughter's saucy tongue to endure-
what else is new. But well you knew
and comprehension grew with every swill.

Gardener, poor gardener, you
who knew what you knew, for whom
the shining moon occasionally rose early,
the plot depends on you.