A Concrete Example By Reginald Arkell

My next-door neighbour, Mrs. Jones,
has got a garden full of stones:
A crazy path, a lily pond,
a rockery and, just beyond
A sundial with a strange device,
which Mrs. Jones thinks rather nice.

My next-door neighbour, Mrs. Jones,
puts little plants between the stones
They are so delicate and small,
they don’t mean anything at all.
I can’t think how she gets them in,
unless she plants them with a pin.

My next-door neighbour, Mrs. Jones,
once asked me round to see her stones.
We stood and talked about a flower
for quite a quarter of an hour.
“Where is this lovely thing?” I cried.
“You’re standing on it,” she replied.