“My vegetable love should grow…”
and Marvellous to note a mind so elevated
touch upon a thing as lowly for Love’s likeness.
(Hull’s a home to peas and poets.)
Andrew as gardener though – I doubt it.
He who knows his onions knows what Patience means
: veg can’t be hurried – nor can Love
(Ah! The Supremes).
Leeks can be coy as ladies, and the moral
marrow won’t be rushed. Winged chariots
look fine in paintings, but a barrow’s what you need
for wheeling spuds.