Cyclamen

The wild Cyclamen nestling in the grass
Their marbled leaves will stay for summer
Soon to fade and seed,not bold like daffodils
Or the Iris in the border which eyes me every day.
Casting seeds in June they've spread across the meadow
Under shrubs and trees to delight in Spring.
One must bend down low to find them,
Pull back their grassy hide. Plant them as you will,
They'll decide to stay,if you give them peace.