I came across this poem today in an old book that my husband produced from his treasure trove in the loft.

It was written in 1938 but the relevance is greater than ever today. Its a delightful collection of poems written by Reginald Arkell, all about gardening. Many of the poems have beautiful illustrations but unfortunately this one had none.

We Grow the Same Roses

WHAT IS A NATION?

Just the same

Old garden

with a different name.

It may be here,

It may be there;

We grow the same roses

Everywhere.

It doesn’t matter

What we do,

You are the same as me,

And I, as you.

It doesn’t matter

If short or tall-

We grow the same roses

After all.

Though some are poor

And some are rich,

It doesn’t matter

Which is which.

Though men are brave

And women fair,

We grow the same roses

Everywhere.

It doesn’t matter

Where we sit,

Some choose the gallery

And some, the pit;

Some like the circle

And some the stall-

We grow the same roses

After all.

English or Russian,

French or Scot;

We seem so different-

We are not.

And although we quarrel

Now and the,

We kiss and make it

Up agen.

The earth was made

For everyone;

We share the same old stars,

The same old sun.

It doesn’t matter

The world is small-

We grow the same roses

After all.

Reginald Arkell

from the book ‘More Green Fingers’

published by Herbert Jenkins Ltd London SW1

in 1938

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