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And here is another one from one of favourite writers ...
...............................................................
Nothing to Save
by D. H. Lawrence

There is nothing to save, now all is lost,
but a tiny core of stillness in the heart
like the eye of a violet.
..............................................................

'nuff said.
Cheers

Emily Dickinson had a great love of gardening and gardens. This captures a few delightful moments in the garden.

In the Garden

A bird came down the walk:
He did not know I saw;
He bit an angle-worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw.

And then he drank a dew
From a convenient grass,
And then hopped sidewise to the wall
To let a beetle pass.

He glanced with rapid eyes
That hurried all abroad, —
They looked like frightened beads, I thought;
He stirred his velvet head

Like one in danger; cautious,
I offered him a crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers
And rowed him softer home

Than oars divide the ocean,
Too silver for a seam,
Or butterflies, off banks of noon,
Leap, plashless, as they swim.

Hi Mona,

I love the poetry of Emily Dickenson - we studied her at school and I wrote my English thesis on her ... she brings back memories of days of fun and nonsense and mischief.

Here are another two from her. I hope others will enjoy her writing if they have not yet read her.
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The Sleeping Flowers

"Whose are the little beds," I asked,
"Which in the valleys lie?"
Some shook their heads, and others smiled,
And no one made reply.

"Perhaps they did not hear," I said;
"I will inquire again.
Whose are the beds, the tiny beds
So thick upon the plain?"

"'T is daisy in the shortest;
A little farther on,
Nearest the door to wake the first,
Little leontodon.

"'T is iris, sir, and aster,
Anemone and bell,
Batschia in the blanket red,
And chubby daffodil."

Meanwhile at many cradles
Her busy foot she plied,
Humming the quaintest lullaby
That ever rocked a child.

"Hush! Epigea wakens! --
The crocus stirs her lids,
Rhodora's cheek is crimson, --
She's dreaming of the woods."

Then, turning from them, reverent,
"Their bed-time 't is," she said;
"The bumble-bees will wake them
When April woods are red."

And

With Flowers.

South winds jostle them,
Bumblebees come,
Hover, hesitate,
Drink, and are gone.

Butterflies pause
On their passage Cashmere;
I, softly plucking,
Present them here!

...............................................................

Cheers 'til more time

Hi there,

Here is a nice one for memories ... and don't we all have them?

Memorial

by Albert E Pedrick

I've had the garden tidied up,
As she would have me do.
This little pal who couldn't stay
To see the season through.
The flowers were her dearest friends,
The garden was her own,
I've watched her work, but never knew
The things that she had grown.
Her, catalogues keep coming, and
Her garden magazine;
I run across the queerest names,
And study what they mean,
I read them all, from end to end,
And when the spring is here,
I'll have a garden just like hers,
As though my wife were near.


Cheers now

Hello - I don't think I have put this up before, forgive if it is a repeat - it's nice enough.

Our Garden
By Beatrix Potter

"We have a little garden,
A garden of our own,
And every day we water there,
The seeds that we have sown.
We love our little garden,
And tend it with such care,
You will not find a faded leaf,
Or blighted blossom there."

Cheers - add something why don't you?

My tomatoes thrive abundantly,
Ripe melons sweet the air.
Such beauty you can always find
Amid such loving care.

Hey Daisybun this is so descriptive ... did you write it? Extra lovely if you did, write some more please or go to the other thread in this forum 'The Ogden Garden Verse'

I love poetry in general period. And it's an extra prize for me when it's about gardening in any way, shape or form.

Cheers

Here is a charming verse...

The Gardener's Morning
by Howard Dolf

The robin's song at daybreak
Is a clarion call to me.
Get up and get out in the garden,
For the morning hours flee.

I cannot resist the summons,
What earnest gardener could?
For the golden hours of morning
Get into the gardener's blood.

The magic spell is upon me,
I'm glad that I did not wait;
For life's at its best in the morning,
As you pass through the garden gate.


A gentle call to action!
Cheers

Hope you like this one ...

Garden Sanctuary
by Doxis M. Palmer

You who walk,
Maybe with troubled thoughts,
Come, enter here and rest;
And may the sweet serenity of growing things,
And the heavenly, peace
Be mirrored in your soul.
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Slow down now,

Cheers

Here's a nice gentle one ...


Hear
by Elin Kelsey

Be still. Listen.
Like you, the Earth breathes.
Your breath is alive with the promise of flowers.

Cheers