A Rose Tree
Fleur Adcock

When we went to live at Top Lodge¹
 my mother gave me a rose tree.

She didn't have to pay for it—
 it was growing there already,

tall and old, by the gravel²（碎石） drive
 where we used to ride our scooters（踏板车） .

No one else was allowed to pick
 the huge pale blooms that smelt³ like jam.

It was mine all through that summer.
 In October we moved again.

But even never seeing it
 couldn't stop it from being mine:

one of those eternal presents.
 At the new house I had a duck.