BellaOnline Forums Home and Garden Container Gardening Garden Themed Poetry

Hi there all and everyone,

Other places on our forum we have posted garden writing - so to start a nice and specific thread I thought I would post the first one on this topic.

I hope you will find your own favourites, saying, poems, proverbs and short writing, and that you will post them for us all to enjoy. We are not really here to discuss them - that will be for another site. We (or definitely me) want to read good writing and then imagine.

Keep it happy, informative and please leave out life metaphors not fit for those of us still under 21. That's me don't you know! Smile now.

Thanks and all and all.
...............................................................

Herb Garden
by Timothy Steele (b 1948)

"And these, small, unobserved . . . " — Janet Lewis

The lizard, an exemplar of the small,
Spreads fine, adhesive digits to perform
Vertical push-ups on a sunny wall;
Bees grapple spikes of lavender, or swarm
The dill's gold umbels and low clumps of thyme.
Bored with its trellis, a resourceful rose
Has found a nearby cedar tree to climb
And to festoon with floral furbelows.

Though the great, heat-stunned sunflower looks half-dead
The way it, shepherd's crook-like, hangs its head,
The herbs maintain their modest self-command:
Their fragrances and colours warmly mix
While, quarrying between the pathway’s bricks,
Ants build minute volcanoes out of sand.

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

What herbs are you growing at the moment?

Cheers now

A Haiku for you -

...............................................................
One Flower
by Jack Kerouac (1922-1969)

One flower
on the cliffside
Nodding at the canyon
...............................................................

Cheers now,

Hi there people who garden and like poetry! Is that you?

Here is one for the slow-in-coming spring for many.
...............................................................

Springtime

by Velma D. Bates

Oh, spring came to my garden
And caught it unaware
Wearing just a few old leaves
And a dejected air.

But when spring left my garden,
Its work so deftly done,
Many, many Daffodils
Were dancing in the sun.

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

Cheers now

Hello everyone - and here is a poem for the fairies!

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

The Flowers
by Robert Louis Stevenson

All the names I know from nurse:
Gardener’s garters, Shepherd’s purse,
Bachelor’s buttons, Lady’s smock,
And the Lady Hollyhock.

Fairy places, fairy things,
Fairy woods where the wild bee wings,
Tiny trees for tiny dames—
These must all be fairy names!

Tiny woods below whose boughs
Shady fairies weave a house;
Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme,
Where the braver fairies climb!

Fair are grown-up people’s trees,
But the fairest woods are these;
Where, if I were not so tall,
I should live for good and all.

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

Cheers now

Hi there,

Columbines

by Teresa Hooley 1888 - 1973

Airily poised in the garden bed,
Delicate saffron, white and rose,
With gossamer petals lightly spread
The columbines flutter upon their toes.

Wait, till the moonlight sets them free!
They'll stir, they'll shake off the dew, they'll go
Dancing, dancing (but you'll not see--
You'll be too busy asleep to know).

Someone surprised them once in May,
Glimmering ivory, gold, and pink,
Dancing under the moon. That way
Columbines found their name, I think

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

Cheers for today and tomorrow too!

Hello all,

I've heard it said that it s simple folk who like easy rhyming poetry - so I guess that makes me simple as I have always like Walter de la Mare.
.................................................................

from Peacock Pie

“A poor old Widow in her weeds
Sowed her garden with wild-flower seeds;
Not too shallow, and not too deep,
And down came April -- drip -- drip -- drip.
Up shone May, like gold, and soon
Green as an arbour grew leafy June.
And now all summer she sits and sews
Where willow herb, comfrey, bugloss blows,
Teasle and pansy, meadowsweet,
Campion, toadflax, and rough hawksbit;
Brown bee orchis, and Peals of Bells;
Clover, burnet, and thyme she smells;
Like Oberon's meadows her garden is
Drowsy from dawn to dusk with bees.
Weeps she never, but sometimes sighs,
And peeps at her garden with bright brown eyes;
And all she has is all she needs --
A poor Old Widow in her weeds.”

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

Cheers

Here is another one I like - what do you say?

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

Outside in my Dressing Gown

by Liz Cowley

I’m outside in my dressing gown –

I often am at half past seven,

when plants are sometimes waking up.

To me, that is a time of heaven.



The builders on the roof next door

were once surprised to see me there,

amazed to watch me pottering

in slippers and with unbrushed hair.



Thank God they’ve learned to look away,

accepting there’s a nut next door

who’s up and out and not yet dressed –

they don’t look startled any more.



They do their own thing, I do mine –

they glance at me, then look away.

I’m glad they have accepted it –

the way I like to start the day.

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

Cheers now

Hi there one and all,

Here is another poem about the spring season - so here is to the change ... lovely stuff happens in spring not so?

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

Spring Garden
by Gareth Lancaster

Jack Frost has upped and gone away,
To his icy summer home.
He stays there whilst the sun is warm,
It's not safe for him to roam.

Now he's left the earth warms up,
And flowers start to grow.
Peeking through the heating soil,
Growing quickly for a show.

Crocuses and Daffodils,
Green shoots poke through the ground.
And with each day as spring returns,
They burst up all around.

When spring arrives the garden glows,
With yellows, blues and reds.
Stretching in the sunny warmth,
Whilst Jack is safe in bed!

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

Still, we all know that Jack Frost is patient and knows that his time will come again.

Cheers now

Hello Gardeners,

This is by a young lady still in junior school. I am not sure why she called it Tommy. Perhaps Tommy is her brother?

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

Tommy
by Gwendolyn Brooks

I put my seed into the ground
And said, "I'll watch it grow."
I watered it and cared for it
As well as I could know.

One day I walked in my back yard,
And oh! what did I see?
My seed had popped itself right out
Without consulting me.

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

I say she will make a smart gardener.

Cheers now

Hi there,

Can't you just taste these words? Hmmm.

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

From Blossoms
by Li-Young Lee (b 1957)

From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.

From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.

O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.

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

I could! Cheers now

Hello People,

My favourite line in this poem is in the last stanza

O! if beauty could save thee, thou ne'er would'st decay,

- but the cycle of life and the chance of the courageous first is well covered - and our memories of beautiful flowers in our life fade oh so slowly - another favourite of mine.
...............................................................

The First Rose of Summer
by: Robert Gilfillan (1798-1850)

'Tis the first rose of summer that ope's to my view,
With its bright crimson bosom all bathed in the dew;
It bows to its green leaves with pride from its throne,
'Tis the queen of the valley, and reigneth alone.

O! why, lovely stranger, thus early to bloom?
Art thou here to assure us that summer is come?
The primrose and harebell appear with the spring,
But tidings of summer the young roses bring.

Thou fair gift of nature, I welcome the boon;
Was't the lark of the morning that 'woke thee so soon?
Yet I weep, thou sweet floweret; for soon from the sky
The lark shall repose where thy leaves withered lie.

O! if beauty could save thee, thou ne'er would'st decay,
But, alas! soon thou'lt perish and wither away;
And thy kindred may blossom, and blossom as fair,
Yet I'll mourn, lonely rose-bud, when thou art not there.
...............................................................

Cheers now

Hello to Everyone,

How is this for a lesson in gardening? From a child's eyes ... nice.

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

Life of a Plant
by Risa Jordan

A plant will grow from a tiny seed,
Some water and sun is all you need.

First the roots grown underground,
They suck up minerals from all around.

Then come stems, some tall, some stout,
And next the branches spread about.

Leaves grow in all shapes and sizes,
Watch this new life as it rises.

Flowers bloom from buds on stems,
They are as pretty as precious gems.

Some plants give us juicy fruit,
Some have vegetables at the root.

New seeds travel to and fro,
By wind and water, on the go.

And the cycle keeps on going,
Soon new stems and leaves are showing.
.................................................................

Do you have any poetry that you like that you will add? Please do.

Cheers now

Hello again,

I have always liked Walter de la Mare - maybe it's the easy rhyming verse which is comfortable to read? Many think he is too childish to take seriously, but I am not one of them.

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

Seeds

The seeds I sowed –
For weeks unseen –
Have pushed up pygmy
Shoots of green;
So frail you’d think
The tiniest stone
Would never let
A glimpse be shown.

But no; a pebble
Near them lies,
At least a cherry-stone
In size,
Which that mere sprout
Has heaved away,
To bask in sunshine,
See the Day.

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

Have a great gardening week ahead - cheers now

Hi one and all,

Here is a really nice tribute to Grandma by Lois E Felder

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

Garden of Gold

I walk through the garden,
On this warm summer's day,
To smell the flowers,
That grandma raised.

In the middle,
Of this garden of gold,
Stood this one,
Single red stem rose,
The rose means so many things,
From the ones you receive on your wedding day,
To the one you get on Valentine's Day,
But this single rose standing here today,
Represents the love grandma gave.

From the love she gave,
When she planted it that day,
To the love she gave us,
Each and every day,
So when you pass this garden of gold,
Remember the love that this rose holds.

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

Cheers - please join in and add your choices, thanks

Hello Everyone,

It is well known that not many gardeners can choose a favourite favourite flower or plant ... there are just so many around that it is just impossible.

Every plant has a space in my heart. I am not an Iris fundi by any means, but they are really beautiful bulbs and relatively easy to grow in containers. Have you tried?

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

Rainbow Treasure

I have found the treasure
That lies at the Rainbow's end;
Wealth beyond computing
Is mine to give or lend.

Opals of an April dawn,
Gold of a shimmering noon,
Amethysts of the sunset,
Pearls with the glow of the moon.

Would you like to share it?
There's more than enough for all
In my Iris Garden
Against a grey stone wall.

by Agnes Hayes Post

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

Do you have a nice poem with a gardening theme to share?

Cheers now

This is a very long poem. My nephew, an English prof, has posted it online because my darling niece and he had their first child just a week ago. And he is bursting with gratitude. The poem has a lot of gardening imagery in it, and I have chosen just some of it to share. I love the sheer exuberance of the language and feeling as though I'm in a garden.

Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude
Ross Gay

thank you zinnia, and gooseberry, rudbeckia
and pawpaw, Ashmead’s kernel, cockscomb
and scarlet runner, feverfew and lemonbalm;
thank you knitbone and sweetgrass and sunchoke
and false indigo whose petals stammered apart
by bumblebees good lord please give me a minute;
and moonglow and catkin and crookneck
and painted tongue and seedpod and johnny jump-up;
thank you what in us rackets glad
what gladrackets us;

and thank you the way my father one time came back in a dream
by plucking the two cables beneath my chin
like a bass fiddle’s strings
and played me until I woke singing,
no kidding, singing, smiling,
thank you, thank you,
stumbling into the garden where
the Juneberry’s flowers had burst open
like the bells of French horns, the lily
my mother and I planted oozed into the air,
the bazillion ants labored in their earthen workshops
below, the collard greens waved in the wind
like the sails of ships, and the wasps
swam in the mint bloom’s viscous swill;

Hello Mona,

How right you are when you say "I love the sheer exuberance of the language and feeling as though I'm in a garden..."

It is as if he has been reintroduced to the life force of the world through the birth of his child - and what better way to express those feelings of joy, gratitude and wonder than to use plants, flowers and the cycle of life that they represent.

The mention of his father and mother too looks backward as he looks forward; closes an immediate circle of family.

Thanks for this, the richness of the writing enables one to read it over and over again and get more from it each time.

Cheers

Dear Lestie,

How wonderful is this thread! I love the garden themed Poetry!

Fabulous!

Mary Caliendo
Tea Editor

Hello Mary and Everyone,

Thanks for your comments - yep! It's great and I so enjoy ferreting around for poems to add.

Here is another short poem with some commentary underneath - it refers to one of my favourite plants whichever version you go for, I like and grow them both with much easy maintenance and success.
...............................................................

Hen and Chickens

by John Carroll.

The "Hen" is in the garden,
And the "Chickens" are there, too;
They've travelled far to get here,
Across the ocean blue.

Of course, they do no scratching,
The reason is they can't;
They're not like other chickens,
For they are just a plant.

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

By the way, what we call Hen and Chicken here in SA is a very different plant from that you call Hen and Chicks in the US. Ours is often confused with the spider plant (leaves are so similar) and the botanical name for ours is Chlorophytum comosum.

Your Hens and chicks are members of the Sempervivum group of succulent plants and are also known as houseleeks. The botanical name for these is Sempervivum tectorum.

Both plants in different ways have a main plant (the hen) that produces numerous offshoots (the chicks).

Regardless ... I think the poem is sweet, I hope you like it too.

Why not add one of your own?

Cheers

Back to unabashed thankfulness, I have to explain that Ross Gay isn't my nephew, though he may be a former colleague. My nephew posted the poem because it so wonderfully expressed his joy and thankfulness and connection to everything.

Yesterday a friend and I were walking in the grounds of a stately home and I was thinking how lovely it would be soon when there were snowdrops, then crocuses and lots of daffodils. And what should I see but the shoots of a patch of daffs! Which had me thinking first of all, that this could be a bit unwise as the cold weather and frosts aren't over yet. But secondly, how lovely they were in Wales where there would be masses of them growing wild, usually in time for St David's day. I don't think I've ever seen 10,000! But I'm with Wordsworth in the feeling.

Daffodils

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

William Wordsworth

Oh how right you are! This just has to be amongst the favourites of many people.

I remember being pedantic with my English Lit. teacher when I was about 14 and drove her crazy because I kept on laughing to think of Wordsworth actually counting the daffodils before he wrote the poem.

I asked her again and again how he knew that there that many.

Shame, I think back on it now and I see I really needed a 'klap' as they say here metaphorically. I remember her being patient though - what a marvellous educator she was. Lucky me.

Cheers

Hello Everyone,

Well here is a poem that has been written along the lines of many other pieces in literature with themes of 'Stop and smell the roses ... or Make hay while the sun shines ... or and so on.

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

The Garden

by Francis Strawn Livingston

Across the road a garden grew,
And bent among the flowers,
A spare old man stooped to his task
Or he sat and dreamed for hours.

He had slaved away his early youth
In a pharmacy day and night.
A pallid drudge year in, year out,
He was starved for color and light.

He had no time for romance,
He grew to shun mankind.
Too stingy to spend emotion,
He closed his heart and mind.

He reaped the fruits of frustration,
In that dull round of care.
A life out of doors, the learned man said,
Might bring surcease from despair.

The gay nasturtiums stirred his heart,
Velvet dahlias woke his pride
The roses he loved like children,
The lily was his bride.

He left this mortal plane long since,
But the garden calls him still:
He walks there when the moon is low,
A bent form, dim and chill.
...............................................................

I like the full circle the poem comes, the sadness of loneliness is offset along the way with regeneration, beauty and continuity. What do you think? We are not running a poetry crit. exercise here but would you have called it The Garden? Just musing.

Cheers

Yes, Lestie, I would have called it The Garden, rather than, say The Lonely Man, Existential Pain [ok, not too likely!] or something that focused on the negative aspects of his life the way we social beings would see it. The garden was his redemption and the focus of his love. And why not? A garden is a living thing too.

Hi Mona,

The more I read this poem the more complicated it gets!

The three main 'characters' I see are the old man, the garden and the narrator.

There's regret of time misspent, of time wasted on not important things; of time ill-used and just passing by unnoticed.

The narrator seems to be making the same mistake - by his/her remarks there is a wistfulness - perhaps s/he is happy for the old man who found solace in the garden?

Anyway, I may have called it something else though I have been trying think of something but can't quite get a title to suit what I want to say ... no poet me!

Maybe just a change of one word could do it - call it His Garden instead of The garden.

Anyway and all that, cheers

Hello All,

Lou e-mailed me and asked for the full poem where we are encouraged to 'stop and stare."

It makes it somehow into the garden-themed poetry post I say, so here we go...

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

'Leisure'

by W.H. Davies

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?—

No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep and cows:

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance:

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

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

Cheers now

Hello there,

It probably takes a simple mind to enjoy such simple verse but there are those times when a person doesn't really want to think!
...............................................................

Maytime Magic

by Mabel Watts

A little seed
For me to sow…
A little earth
To make it grow…
A little hole,
A little pat…
A little wish,
And that is that.
A little sun,
A little shower…
A little while,
And then – a flower!
...............................................................

It's true - it is as simple as that.

Cheers now

Hi there all,

Here is a repeat of two poems that I have posted before but which I think are worth reading again and again and again. I hope you agree.

Yikes! Where does the name Wadsworth come from?

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

Kind Words and Kind Deeds

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Kind hearts are the gardens,
Kind thoughts are the roots,
Kind words are the flowers,
Kind deeds are the fruits,
Take care of your garden,
And keep out the weeds,
Fill it with sunshine,
Kind words and kind deeds.

And then another by Goethe

Found

Once in the forest
I strolled content,
To look for nothing
My sole intent.

I saw a flower,
Shaded and shy,
Shining like starlight,
Bright as an eye.

I went to pluck it;
Gently it said:
Must I be broken,
Wilt and be dead?

Then whole I dug it
Out of the loam
And to my garden
Carried it home,

There to replant it
Where no wind blows.
More bright than ever
It blooms and grows.

Cheers now

Hello there!

I love tomatoes don't you? Well here is someone else who does!
...............................................................

Tomato
by Robert Szankowski

I see this fruit, this imperfect ball,
it sits on the counter, against the wall;
I’m uncommitted to its ultimate fate,
I got to decide before it’s too late.

It looks ripe, it looks sweet and delicious,
full of vitamins, it is surely nutritious;
bright and red with a dimple on its face,
a flawed perfection that adorns its grace.

Where did it come from? What was its trek?
What gave it its quality? What gave it its speck?
Its youthful green color as it grew on the vine.
Did it fall, was it picked, before it became mine?

What is the best way to bring out its taste?
Should I make a soup? Should I make a paste?
A Bloody Mary? A spicy salsa?
Should I make a sauce, to eat with a pasta?

A lot of thought went into this piece of fruit,
a vegetable some people would dispute;
a tempting odor as I put to my jaw;
I think I’ll write a poem for it and eat it raw.
...............................................................

... and so he did.

Cheers now

THE DESERTED GARDEN

I mind me in the days departed,
How often underneath the sun.
With childish bounds I used to run
To a garden long deserted.

The beds and walks were vanish'd quite;
And wheresoe'er had struck the spade,
The greenest grasses Nature laid,
To sanctify her right.

I call'd the place my wilderness ;
For no one enter'd there but I.
The sheep look'd in, the grass to espy,
And pass'd it ne'ertheless.

The trees were interwoven wild.
And spread their boughs enough about
To keep both sheep and shepherd out,
But not a happy child.

--Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Hi Mona,

Your choice above a sad and happy poem - masterfully mixed, so nice to read over an over again ... poetry works especially for me when it touches a personal spot. Thanks for posting it.

Here is another one I found.

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

My Garden
by Marie Church

As I look out to my garden
I feel a sense of pride
It really is a lovely room
Except it is outside.

Where lovely things mix and match
And greenery fills the walls
The sound of trickling water
Coming from the gold fish pond.

I love the sight of stones and rocks
And driftwood and tree ferns to
The sounds of all my chimes
I know you would like it to.

With pride I walk around my garden
And savour each scent and smell
Colours of yellow, red and gold
Striped cushion on a bench.

The bird bath has its own domain
It's placed beside a wooden arch
Where all the birds come to bathe
And drink when they are parched.

Ladybirds can hide away
Sometimes they come out to see
What's happening around them
With caterpillars and the bees.

There's not much more that I can say
Except if you have your own
It won't take long to build it up
Seeds will bloom once they are sown
.............................................................

Cheers

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

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

Goethe wrote this ...

Once in the forest
I strolled content,
To look for nothing
My sole intent.

I saw a flower,
Shaded and shy,
Shining like starlight,
Bright as an eye.

I went to pluck it;
Gently it said:
Must I be broken,
Wilt and be dead?

Then whole I dug it
Out of the loam
And to my garden
Carried it home,

There to replant it
Where no wind blows.
More bright than ever
It blooms and grows.

Hillside Narcissus
by Nora McFarlane

There's a grassy slope not far away
Where thousands of Narcissus bloom,
And I catch my breath, as I watch them sway
Tossing their sweet perfume.

Gaily they nod their dear little heads
And smilingly welcome me,
As they spring up fresh from their winter beds,
Eager for company.

Their round white faces fair and clean
Are purer than frost or snow,
And I thank the hands, tho' now unseen;
That planted them, long ago.

Please add one something - thanks and cheers til next time,

And while we're on the subject of daffodils, here's a sweet poem by A.A.Milne.

DAFFODOWNDILLY

She wore her yellow sun-bonnet,
She wore her greenest gown;
She turned to the south wind
And curtsied up and down.
She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbor:
"Winter is dead.”

–A.A. Milne, When We Were Very Young

Thanks Mona, I agree with the quaint name Daffodowndillies!

Here's another poem that you can see, taste, and hear so well it transfers straightaway to your garden ...

WINGED JEWELL - The Hummingbird.
by Cora Cone.

Feathered fire of emerald .
Aflashing through the air,
Its throat a glowing jewel,
A ruby solitaire.
Intrepid wings are whirring
In airy, fairy flight,
Careening through the sunshine,
A scintillating sprite.
Then pendant o'er a flower
It dips its dainty hill
And gathers honeyed nectar
From flowery cup and frill.
Now darting, swiftly turning,
It seeks the trumpet vine,
A little tropic jewel
Aflame with nectared wine.

Don't you just love poetry?

Cheers for now.

I love reading through this thread to remind myself of het lovely words it's gathering as time passes ...

Here's one for today by Robert Louis Stevenson

Autumn Fires

In the other gardens
And all up the vale,
From the autumn bonfires
See the smoke trail!

Pleasant summer over
And all the summer flowers,
The red fire blazes,
The grey smoke towers.

Sing a song of seasons!
Something bright in all!
Flowers in the summer,
Fires in the fall!

Robert Burns -

My Love is like a Red, Red Rose

O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve's like the melodie
That’s sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry:

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee well, my only Luve
And fare thee well, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.

Hey Susan, thanks for putting this up - it took me back immediately to when I was around 10 ad singing in the choir with our Scottish music teacher Miss MacCallum. We sang it and got a first in the Eisteddfod that year.

Anyway, I may have already posted this one but just feel like reading it again in case not ... I don't know if it has a heading.

Kind hearts are the gardens,
Kind thoughts are the roots,
Kind words are the flowers,
Kind deeds are the fruits,
Take care of your garden,
And keep out the weeds,
Fill it with sunshine,
Kind words and kind deeds.

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Cheers now