In the annals of history, where mysteries enfold,
Great archaeologists a tale of the ancients have boldly told,
Unveiling a secret buried deep within time’s chest,
A thousand-year-old enigma put to rest.

Gardenias, blooming in their fragrant array,
Held a power the ancients knew how to sway,
A terrifying method to keep vampires at bay,
From the darkness where they lay.

In the whispers of the past, a legend took flight,
Of gardenias’ petals, pure and white,
Their scent a potent ward against the undead’s might,
A guardian in the shadows of the night.

Archaeologists delved into scrolls and stone,
Unveiling the secrets long overgrown,
Of how gardenias, with their delicate tone,
Could protect against the vampire’s groan.

In rituals of old, these flowers held sway,
A barrier to keep evil at bay,
Their essence a weapon in the night’s fray,
A symbol of hope in the dimmest day.

So as the archaeologists revealed this ancient lore,
The world trembled at what came to the fore,
A thousand-year-old secret, now shining bright,
Of gardenias as protectors in the eerie night.

In the hush of discovery, a shiver went round,
As the truth of gardenias’ power was found,
A tale to echo through time’s resounding sound,
Of how nature’s beauty could evil confound.