The poem begins by undercutting the beautiful, pleasant imagery promised by the title through the terse bluntness of the “dusk, and cold.” Flowers are indeed present as the title suggests, but only “frail, melancholy” ones, gathered by the subservient act of “kneeling” among “ashes and loam”. There is a definite sense of ending – both of the day, and of something grander. The persona’s attempts at engaging with the natural world are crudely rebuffed – she cannot succeed in her musical engagement, merely “try”, which results only in an “indifferent” blackbird “fret[ting] and strop[ing]” under “Ambiguous light. Ambiguous sky.” This unfriendly environment in which the poem begins foregrounds the sense of loss which characterises so much of Harwood’s poetry, an inevitable, confronting finality emphasised by the bluntness of the language and plethora of full stops. The adult world presented here is one of uncertainty, difficulty and ambiguity.…