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Best Poems - Gardening
Best Poems – GARDENING
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| An Arbor Day Tree – Anonymous
“Dear little tree that we plant today
What will you be when we’re old and gray?
‘The savings bank of the squirrel and mouse,
For robin and wren an apartment house.
The dressing room of the butterfly’s ball,
The locust’s and katydid’s concert hall.
The schoolboy’s ladder in pleasant June,
The schoolgirl’s tent in the July noon,
And my leaves shall whisper them merrily
A tale of the children who planted me.'” |
| Trees – Sara Coleridge
“The Oak is called the Kind of Trees,”
The Aspen quivers in the breeze,
The Poplar grows up straight and tall,
The Pear tree spreads along the wall,
The sycamore gives pleasant shade,
The Willow droops in watery glade,
The fir tree useful timber gives
The Beech amid the forest lives.” |
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Strictly Germ-Proof – Arthur Guiterman “The Antiseptic Baby and the Prophylactic Pup
Were playing in the garden when the Bunny gamboled up;
They looked upon the Creature with a loathing undisguised;—
It wasn’t Disinfected and it wasn’t Sterilized.
They said it was a Microbe and a Hotbed of Disease;
They steamed it in a vapor of a thousand-odd degrees;
They froze it in a freezer that was cold as Banished Hope
And washed it in permanganate with carbolated soap.
In sulphureted hydrogen they steeped its wiggly ears;
They trimmed its frisky whiskers with a pair of hard-boiled shears;
They donned their rubber mittens and they took it by the hand
And ‘lected it a member of the Fumigated Band.
There’s not a Micrococcus in the garden where they play;
They bathe in pure iodoform a dozen times a day;
And each imbibes his rations from a Hygienic Cup—
The Bunny and the Baby and the Prophylactic Pup.” |
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| “Her Garden – Donald Hall
“I let her garden go.
let it go, let it go
How can I watch the hummingbird
Hover to sip
With its beak’s tip
The purple bee balm—whirring as we heard
It years ago?
The weeds rise rank and thick
let it go, let it go
Where annuals grew and burdock grows,
Where standing she
At once could see
he peony, the lily, and the rose
Rise over brick
She’d laid in patterns. Moss
let it go, let it go
Turns the bricks green, softening them
By the gray rocks
Where hollyhocks
That lofted while she lived, stem by tall stem,
Dwindle in loss.” |
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Planting Rhyme – Louis Untermeyer
“This is the plough,
And this is the furrow.
This is now;
There is no tomorrow;
No yesterday;
Nothing that isn’t
One with the way
Of the full-sown present.
Here is hoe
For labor and lover
In sourest loam
Or sweetest clover.
The bed is made,
Though the bed is narrow.
This is the spade.
This is the harrow.
Out with the weed
That chokes as it thickens;
In with the seed
That feeds and quickens.” |
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