All the gardens I dreamed of planting,
mid-winter, Boston, the names of flowers
I knew only from pictures, light slanting
in the low way it has in dark hours.

Mid-winter, Boston, the names of flowers
like some gathered common blessing.
In the low way it has in dark hours,
my imagination was undressing.

Like some gathered common blessing,
country of snow, universe of quiet.
My imagination was undressing
under heavy clothes we wore outside.

Country of snow, universe of quiet
unlike the noisy heat and green of home.
Under heavy clothes we wore outside,
no place to be but all alone.

Unlike the noisy heat and green of home
that snowed-in place of stilled reflecting,
no place to be but all alone,
all the gardens I dreamed of planting.