In English Gardens

In these English gardens, the
Spells I do sing, the magic
Does ring, and I am the sad thing.
Faeries unseen, witches do bring,
And the smoke is sheen.
Under waterfalls tall, in
Roots small, under stars dull,
In dreams I do fall.

In fertile lands,
in this loving cradle,
seeds take root in my earthly heart.
To nurture with nature,
to determine my part,
to bring magic
or mayhem,
and where do we start.