Flower Garden Poem

A poem by Lillian Curtis describes the flower garden and each flower that grows. Also, the verses express what happens when the garden is no longer tended to.

Famous Garden Poems    /   flower garden poem

The Flower Garden
Poet: Lillian E. Curtis

Ah! hers was a bright and cheery place,
A quiet, secluded little spot,
Where, with her little flock around her,
She had a cheerful, happy lot.

Each one of her little flock
Bore the name of some flower;
And training her tender plants,
She spent many a happy hour.

There was Rose, and her name
Was appropriately her own,
For scarlet cheeks and lips
Were like roses fully blown.

And Daisy, with her drooping form
And eyes of violet blue,
And her long and heavy curls,
Of a lovely golden hue.

And Lily, with her petite figure
And eyes of limpid brown,
And a face so fair and sweet,
That seldom, if ever, was known to frown.

And Blossom, with her childish face
And merry winning smile.
And her innocent little ways,
With never a thought of guile.

And then there was a boy
And his name was Pink,
He was the youngest of them all,
At least, so I think.

But the garden grew thinner and thinner,
The flowers all dropped away,
And the spot where the garden was,
Is a lonesome place to-day.

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More poems by Famous Poets about flower gardens:

Such Pleasure
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer

My flower garden brings such pleasure,
Time and love I do invest.
Seeds are sown widely in its center,
'Til colorful petals manifest.

Through the sun's light, blooms come alive;
Glow so brightly and such sweet smells.
Joyful hues of reds and yellows,
The beauty of my garden is swell.

A Wave of the Hand
Poet: Frank Earl Herrick

A wave of the hand;
And flowers expand
Where thorns and thistles grew,
And the arid way
Of a dreary day
Is fresh with morning dew!

A wave of the hand;
And the shifting sand
Is a valley rich and fair,
And kindly eyes
Drive from the skies
The heavy clouds of care!

A wave of the hand;
And the desert land
Doth blossom as the rose,
And a pleasant smile
Holds me the while
And I forget my foes!
A wave of the hand:
And bright and grand
The wayside flowers unfold,
And their sweet sway
Earth's common clay
Transmutes to shining gold!

A wave of the hand
We understand
Who know true Friendship's code
'Tis a cooling glass
To all who pass
Along Life's dusty road!

Poet: Alice Clawson

I watched the growth of a little flower,
And said to myself, "How passing strange!"
For I marked within it the ceaseless change
In silence wrought by mystic power.

I could not see the air around,
Nor the forces hid in the beam of light;
The rain-drop falling was lost to sight;
Silent and motionless lay the ground.

But when one day, like a holy thought,
The petals spread from the blossom's heart,
I saw the beautiful, perfect part
That each had slowly and surely wrought.

In secret and silence before me there
The new creation had sprung and grown,
Whose life yet seemed to me less its own
Than that of water or earth or air.

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