The Onion Weed Poem by Francis Duggan

The Onion Weed



The flowers on the onion weed as white as the snow
In the sun shine of November bloom by the Hedgerow
In the freshening breezes they nod and they sway
A common weed to many is a flower some would say.

Not of the onion family though in that I may be wrong
The smell of the onion from them is quite strong
Angled onion by some for it a common name
But angled onion and onion weed they are one of the same.

I do seem quite ignorant of Nature indeed
What to me is a wild flower to a realist a weed
Some quite clever people can tell weeds from flowers
But I am not blessed with such marvellous powers.

When the days grow warmer and the birds chirp and sing
The onion weed bloom in the Southern Spring
In damp and soggy places they prosper and grow
Yet little about them I do seem to know.

Compared to the bulbs of the true onion their bulbs are quite small
But the strong smell of the onion from them not hard to recall
Yet with my assumptions most would disagree
For what is a weed to many looks pretty to me.

The sun out and shining the freshening winds blow
And amongst the rank grass along by the Hedgerow
The onion weed dancing such a beautiful sight
And the nesting birds singing in the warm sunlight.

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