Alchemisland

Mr Barr of Scotland 

Reputable planter whose hands tease blooms such rare leaves that all agree he aboves all others leagues

He asks assistance seeking that upon life’s marker at death primroses planted be

Favour he xanthine o’er green, that which like bee’s brighter half hued

That which like a calf thought smiling and daft

Victoria disliked but did not abhor Barr’s daffodils

Thrill of every green-fingered gardener in that locale which came to see his fields blinding with sun-inflamed orpiment as in a mirage

Every bed motley rows and sil in Grecian pots occupied, dullard regiments

Mr Barr of Scotland hath given over all his lands to the cultivation of his favourite plants

Namely primroses, no primmer, I think, nor princely more than thorned rose

And daffodil growing dominantly throwing himself in heat’s path like heathens bathed in Ra’s fiery sight.