My garden grows beneath my hand
Every week the grass is mown
Weeds are pulled and hedges shaped
Nothing grows i haven’t sewn
But far away a wild place calls
A wilderness where true night falls

Still I tidy and I dig
Lest some vagrant seed flies in
Rose and honeysuckles climb
Tied fast on their trellis wings
Dear, cut them back! My neighbour cried
You’ll only have them running wild

And maybe we are just the same
A triumph of a wild thing tamed

Cos over fences, gates and stiles
Pioneer like we all go
Walk and walk for miles and miles
To catch our breath and stand alone
The wilderness still whispers low
Like something lost from long ago

My garden grows beneath my hand
Still each week my grass is mown
But now the roses all run wild
And dandilions and daisys grow