Poems about making a garden to encourage and inspire you. The poems remind us of the wonderful pleasures of making a garden and the help we get.
May the pleasures of your own garden be seen in the verses and quotes.
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Garden Making - related: Garden Quotes
Poet: Frances Angermayer
I stood in a lovely garden one night -
And I marveled at the enchanting sight!
When lo! There, in the Cathedral-like hush
I heard the swish of a painter's brush.
I saw the flowers and the trees in prayer,
And knew the Great Gardener was working there.
From Flower To Light
Poet: Mary Mapes Dodge
In sorrow I tended my garden,
As the colors, day by day,
Faded and changed in the heedless air,
And passed with the summer away.
While they gladdened my beautiful garden.
Where the dews and sunlight abide,
And crept up the wall to my window.
Or hid, as the sweetest will hide;
While they lavished their splendor before me,
Not a flower had I heart to cull —
Till the heaven-lit flames of the latest
Went out, and my garden was dull.
O cruel the death of the blossoms.
And cruel the words that were said:
"Next spring shall the earth be re-gladdened,
The living shall bloom from the dead."
Not for me would the blooming be, ever,
For my love, O my love! could not stay.
Hand in hand we had bent o'er their brightness,
And now he was passing away.
The heart-breaking flowers of next summer,
They will look at me, dreary and wan,
Or mock me, and taunt me, and madden —
God, that the years should roll on!
So I felt; and I would not look skyward,
Nor earthward, but only at him —
At him with his clear dying vision,
Who saw not the earth growing dim.
At him, till alone in the garden
I stood with the husks of the flowers;
Alone, and the pitiless Autumn
Sent dead leaves about me, in showers.
Look up! he had whispered in parting
Look up! said a voice to me then, —
And lo! the lost hues of my garden
Above me were glowing again!
Near by, in the wide-spreading maples;
Far off, in the mist of the wood;
Around and above me they gathered,
And lit all the place where I stood.
My purples, my rose-tints and yellows,
My crimsons that gladdened his sight,
My glorious hues of the garden
Were living in sunnier height!
Were living! were living! I knew it!
And the comfort that came to me so,
Endured when the forest was naked,
And the grass covered over with snow.
For again I looked up and beheld them.
The souls of the flowers he had blest;
I saw them in glory transfigured
Far off in the wonderful west.
Contented, at last, I beheld them —
My colors immortal and bright —
When the gates of the sunset, slow-folding.
Shut them out from my passionate sight.
The Price Of Joy
Poet: Edgar A. Guest
You don't begrudge the labor when the roses start to bloom;
You don't recall the dreary days that won you their perfume;
You don't recall a single care
You spent upon the garden there;
And all the toil
Of tilling soil
Is quite forgot the day the first
Pink rosebuds into beauty burst.
You don't begrudge the trials grim when joy has come to you;
You don't recall the dreary days when all your skies are blue;
And though you've trod a weary mile
The ache of it was all worth while;
And all the stings
And bitter flings
Are wiped away upon the day
Success comes dancing down the way.
More Garden Poems to Encourage and Inspire
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