Amy Lowell turns a tulip bed into a military pageant. The walled garden becomes a parade ground, and the flowers are soldiers in bright uniforms: white with crimson lace, gold-frocked cavalry, purple batteries. They seem to advance with flags and torches, stepping in time to a quick, unheard march. The speaker is clearly delighted by the spectacle, but there is also a touch of longing—she can see the rhythm and ceremony, yet cannot hear the music. The whole display is a pantomime. In the final lines, the only real sound is wind moving through the flowers. The mood is playful, vivid, and theatrical, but ends on a quiet, wistful note about imagination and reality.
A Tulip Garden — Summary
Guarded within the old red wall's embrace, Marshalled like soldiers in gay company, The tulips stand arrayed. Here infantry Wheels out into the sunlight. What bold grace Sets off their tunics, white with crimson lace! Here are platoons of gold-frocked cavalry, With scarlet sabres tossing in the eye Of purple batteries, every gun in place. Forward they come, with flaunting colours spread, With torches burning, stepping out in time To some quick, unheard march. Our ears are dead, We cannot catch the tune. In pantomime Parades that army. With our utmost powers We hear the wind stream through a bed of flowers.