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The reference to "the names, and the things/ No less" is, of course, evocative: we imagine farm implements, wildflowers like the "burnet rose" mentioned earlier, nicknames, the colouring of different dialects.

Here is the wild Burnet Rose, with its yellow-white single flowers and large black hips, and its garden varieties, the Scotch Briars, double white, flesh-coloured, pink, rose, and yellow, and the hybrid briar, Stanwell Perpetual.

I bought the lilac to celebrate the birth of our third child, the burnet rose with unusual magenta-flecked petals was a cutting taken on a memorable family holiday on the Northumberland coast, the sweet peas are seeds from the fragrant strain my grandmother nurtured on her allotment and the double-flowered daylilies came from the garden I grew up in.

Burnet Rose is the name of the plant.

I know you: You are light as dreams, Tough as oak, Precious as gold, As poppies and corn, Or an old cloak: Sweet as our birds To the ear, As the burnet rose In the heat Of Midsummer: Strange as the races Of dead and unborn: Strange and sweet Equally, And familiar, To the eye, As the dearest faces That a man knows, And as lost homes are: But though older far Than oldest yew,— As our hills are, old.—