No Country For Young Women

I am a gardener.
But not your common variety:
More of a haughty culturalist,
An autocratic arborist,
A green-eyed jailhouse jardinier.

I sow and reap and reap and sow,
And plant gardens in the east;
I dig unnamed watercourses,
And give away all I grow,
Hedged around with conditions.

This is no country for young women:
Begotten, born and back-broken,
Amongst the fields, amongst the seed;
I fence the trees that they may need,
And curse the fruit, the fruit, the fruit.

I am the sole harvester
Of a dim-remembered age;
The lonesome arbiter
Of thyme and sage, because
I am the gardener.