The Horticultural Poem

This is a horticultural poem About horticultural things, Of reeds and weeds, where sycamore seeds Have horticultural wings. The wind in the West has all the zest Of a punch from a fist of clover, In the wheezy East it's a perfect beast When the cabbages bowl you over. I'd go for a walk, but on every stalk The whin seeds are exploding. By that quiet rill, drawn up for the kill, New rifles of pods are loading. From armies of sedge, platoons of hedge Breed bristles strong and sharp. Beware that petal, it hides a nettle Whose bite's as bad as his bark!