There is just no end to the Spring bounty in the garden:

from Bluebells

Tonight from deeps of loneliness I wake in wistful wonder

To a sudden sense of brightness, an immanence of blue -

O are there bluebells swaying in the shadowy coppice yonder,

Shriven with the dawning and the dew?

Lucia C. Markham (late 19th-early 20th century)

On a Bed of Forget-me-nots

I love its growth at large and free

By untrod path and unlopped tree,

Or nodding by the unpruned hedge,

Or on the water's dangerous edge

Where flags and meadowsweet blow rank

With rushes on the quaking bank.

Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)