Collections of Garden Poems:

1. Flower Poem



2. God's Garden Poem



3. Plant Your Own Garden Poem



4. Poem How Does Your Garden Grow



5. Rose Poems



6. Garden Verses



7. Poems about Gardens by Famous Poets



8. Poems about Grass and Lawns



9. In My Garden Poem



10. Poems About Daisies



11. Dandelion Poems




More Garden Poems:

12. Funny Garden Poems



13. Famous Garden Poems
    
    
    Favorite Garden Poems:
    
    
14. My Sunset Garden
    Poet: Althea Randolph
    
    The rainbow hues at eventide
    Are flowers in the sky.
    Which bud and blossom one by one
    Up in my Garden high.
    
    The Violet lifts her modest head
    And looks the wide world through.
    Then quickly comes the dainty bloom,
    Forget-me-not of blue.
    
    Glad Marigold and Roses red.
    With emerald leaves about.
    Chase Dandelion and Mignonette,
    While Clovers pink peep out!
    
    Next Mister Dusk-man wanders forth
    With his great cloak of gray
    And covers up my pretty flowers,
    And hides them all away!
    
    But well I know when night is gone,
    And day-time hours fly by,
    That once again my flowers bright
    Will blossom in the sky!




15. A Beauty To Behold
    Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
    
    Gardens, a beauty to behold,
    Flowers that come from deep in the soil unfold,
    The colors of pink, lavender, and yellow,
    The beauty has stopped many a fellow.
    
    Peace and serenity are what it brings,
    The garden even makes the birds sing.
    Walking through the garden in bloom
    Can help take away any gloom.




16. What Is A Garden?
    Poet: Reginald Arkell
    
    What is a garden?
    Goodness knows!
    You've go a garden,
    I suppose:
    
    To one it is a piece of ground
    For which some gravel must be found.
    To some, those seeds that must be sown,
    To some a lawn,  must be mown.
    To some a ton of Cheddar rocks;
    To some it means a window box;
    To some, who dare not pick a flower-
    A man, at eighteen pence an hour.
    To some, it is a silly jest
    About the latest garden pest;
    To some, a haven where they find
    Forgetfulness and peace of mind...
    
    What is a garden
    Large or small
    'Tis just a garden,
    After all.




17. A Garden Fair
    by Helen A. Fussell
    
    I will sing you a song
    Of a garden fair,
    Wherein were sown seeds
    That brought blossoms rare.
    
    Love, joy and kindness,
    And hearty good cheer,
    Were the seeds that were sown
    And flowered here.
    
    The garden fair
    Was a little child’s mind,
    And the seeds were these thoughts,
    Just the very best kind.







18. A Garden Can Be
    Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
    
    A garden can be a place of peace for me
    Watching nature and flowers be
    The gentle breeze that blows around
    Can be such a gentle sound.
    
    A garden can be a place to work
    With weeds attacking in the lurk
    While we dig them out of the dirt
    The weeds our flowers will not hurt.
    
    A garden can be a place of beauty
    Filled with flowers that are so groovy
    A tiny seed planted, and then it blooms
    The fragrance can soon consume.
    
    The garden - a place for all to enjoy
    Even for the little girls and boys.
    It is a place to see nature in action
    Gardening can be such a passion!




19. Plant The Seeds
    Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
    
    Let's plant the seeds they said
    So we took the seed and spread.
    For there is hope in each little grain,
    To bring a harvest we can gain.
    
    The same is true for life today,
    What we nurture and cultivate along the way.
    Expectations of results arise each day,
    It matters what we do and say.




20. Fragment
    Lord Alfred Tennyson
    
    Flower in the crannied wall,
    I pluck you out of the crannies,
    I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
    Little flower - but if I could understand
    What you are, root and all, and all in all,
    I should know what God and man is.





21. What You Plant
    Poet: H. Joseph Chadwick
    
    You've planted love and friendship,
    And since you planted those,
    Your garden's surely blooming
    With lovely memories . . .
    
    And life has been much brighter
    For everyone you've known
    Because of all the gladness
    And happiness you've sown!





22. Cobwebs
    Poet: Patience Strong
    
    I went in the garden this morning at dawn -
    And there in the grass on the shimmering lawn -
    Were hundreds of cobwebs -
    Like fairy nets spread -
    Bejewelled with dew -
    I was fearful to tread -
    
    For here was a thing that no human had made -
    And breathless with wonder, I stood still, afraid -
    That beauty so fragile would vanish from sight -
    This miracle wrought on my lawn - overnight.
    
    We build great air-monsters with huge steely wings,
    We build guns and cities and marvelous things -
    And yet could we make overnight, with our hands -
    This network of delicate, gossamer strands?
    
    And I think I'm clever to work a design, with needle and silks -
    Just to follow the line, marked out by a transfer -
    Quite simple and plain...
    The spiders must think we are terribly vain.




23. A Garden Is
    Poet: William Arthur Ward
    
    A garden is a lovely place,
    Where seeds burst through the sod,
    A garden is a partnership,
    Between two hands and God.
    
    A garden is a restful place,
    Where gentle breezes blow. . .
    A family of growing things,
    Where souls can also grow.







24. My Heart Shall By Thy Garden
    Poet: Alice Christiana Thompson Meynell
    
    Thy heart shall be thy garden. Come, my own,
    Into thy garden; thine be happy hours
    Among my fairest thoughts, my tallest flowers,
    From root to crowning petal, thine alone.
    
    Thine is the place from where the seeds are sown
    Up to the sky enclosed, with all its showers.
    But ah, the birds, the birds! Who shall build bowers
    To keep these thine? O friend, the birds have flown.
    
    For as these come and go, and quit our pine
    To follow the sweet season, or, new-comers,
    Sing one song only from our alder-trees.
    
    My heart has thoughts, which, though thine eyes hold mine,
    Flit to the silent world and other summers,
    With wings that dip beyond the silver seas.




25. Red Geraniums
    by Martha Haskell Clark
    
    Life did not bring me silken gowns,
    Nor jewels for my hair,
    Nor signs of gabled foreign towns
    In distant countries fair,
    But I can glimpse, beyond my pane, a green and friendly hill,
    And red geraniums aflame upon my window sill.
    
    The brambled cares of everyday,
    The tiny humdrum things,
    May bind my feet when they would stray,
    But still my heart has wings
    While red geraniums are bloomed against my window glass,
    And low above my green-sweet hill the gypsy wind-clouds pass.
    
    And if my dreamings ne’er come true,
    The brightest and the best,
    But leave me lone my journey through,
    I’ll set my heart at rest,
    And thank God for home-sweet things, a green and friendly hill,
    And red geraniums aflame upon my window sill.




26. The Gardener
    Poet: Robert Louis Stevenson
    
    The gardener does not love to talk,
    He makes me keep the gravel walk;
    And when he puts his tools away,
    He locks the door and takes the key.
    
    Away behind the currant row
    Where no one else but cook may go,
    Far in the plots, I see him dig
    Old and serious, brown and big.
    
    He digs the flowers, green, red, and blue,
    Nor wishes to be spoken to.
    He digs the flowers and cuts the hay,
    And never seems to want to play.
    
    Silly gardener! summer goes,
    And winter comes with pinching toes,
    When in the garden bare and brown
    You must lay your barrow down.
    
    Well now, and while the summer stays,
    To profit by these garden days
    O how much wiser you would be
    To play at Indian wars with me!




27. The Ramble
    Poet: Jones Very
    
    The plants that careless grow shall bloom and bud,
    When wilted stands man's nicely tended flower;
    E'en on the unsheltered waste, or pool's dark mud,
    Spring bells and lilies fit for lady's bower.
    
    Come with me, I will show you where they grow;
    The tangled vines and boughs come push aside;
    O'er yonder hilltop's craggy side we go,
    Then by the path beyond we downward slide.
    
    See, beyond pond where few but travelers pass,
    Each lily opens wide its curious cup.
    And here where now we track the unmown grass,
    The wild-heath bell, surprised is looking up
    To view the strangers that thus far have sought
    The flowers that in fair Nature's robe are wrought.




28. May Time
    Poet: Cobb
    
    Sweet is the fragrance in the air,
    The cool and laughing breeze;
    The gardens now are wondrous fair
    With blossoms on the trees.
    
    The hills and valleys now are green
    And all the world is gay;
    And nestlings carol loud and clear
    To welcome you, sweet May.




29. A Life Garden
    Poet: Mabel Earle
    
    A garden-plot of sunny hours
    God gives me when I wake,
    And I can make it bright with flowers
    All day for his dear sake.
    
    Red roses, if my heart is sweet
    With love for all my own;
    And heart's-ease springing at my feet
    For every kindness shown.
    
    And shining, sunny marigold,
    If I am brave and bright;
    And lilies, for the thoughts that hold
    My heart all pure and white.
    
    Sweet violets, hiding in their leaves,
    For truth and modesty;
    And balsams if a soul that grieves
    Finds comforting in me.
    
    And poppies, if my toil brings rest
    To hands grown tired with care;
    And always - first and last and best -
    Forget-me-nots of prayer.




30. The Child In The Garden
    Poet: Henry VanDyke
    
    When to the garden of untroubled thought
    I came of late, and saw the open door,
    And wished again to enter, and explore
    The sweet, wild ways with stainless bloom inwrought,
    And bowers of innocence with beauty fraught,
    It seemed some purer voice must speak before
    I dared to tread that garden loved of yore,
    That Eden lost unknown and found unsought.
    
    Then just within the gate I saw a child,-
    A stranger-child, yet to my heart most dear;
    He held his hands to me, and softly smiled
    With eyes that knew no shade of sin or fear:
    "Come in," he said, "and play awhile with me;
    "I am the little child you used to be."




31. A Little Dutch Garden
    Poet: Harriet Whitney Dubbin
    
    I passed by a garden, a little Dutch garden,
    Where useful and pretty things grew, -
    Heart's-ease and tomatoes, and pinks and potatoes,
    And lilies and onions and rue.
    
    I saw in that garden, that little Dutch garden,
    A chubby Dutch man with a spade,
    And a rosy Dutch frau with a shoe like a scow.
    And a flaxen-haired little Dutch maid.
    
    There grew in that garden, that little Dutch garden,
    Blue Hag (lowers lovely and tall,
    And early blush roses, and little pink posies,
    But Gretchen was fairer than all.
    
    My heart's in that garden, that little Dutch' garden, -
    It tumbled right in as I passed.
    Mid wildering mazes of spinach and daisies.
    And Gretchen is holding it fast.




32. Making A Garden
    Poet: Unknown
    
    Man plows and plants and digs and weeds;
    He works with hoe and spade;
    God sends the sun and rain and air,
    And thus a garden's made.
    
    He must be proud who tills the soil
    And turns the heavy sod:
    How wonderful a thing to be
    In partnership with God.




33. In A Garden
    Poet: Dorothy Frances Gurney
    
    The kiss of the sun for pardon
    The song of the birds for mirth,
    You're nearer God's heart in a garden
    Than anywhere else on earth.




34. What Seeds Are You Planting
    by J. R. Miller
    
    We are are not through with our life as we live it.
    Every act, every word, every thought, every choice,
    Is a seed which we drop.
    
    We go on carelessly, never dreaming
    that we shall ever again see our deeds.
    Then some day we come upon an ugly plant growing somewhere, and we ask,
    "What is this?"
    Comes the answer:
    "I am one of your plants. You dropped the seed which grew into me."
    
    Our lives are the little garden plants in
    Which it is our privilege to drop seeds.
    We shall have to eat the fruits of the seeds
    Which we are planting these days.




35. My Window Ivy
    Poet: Mary Mapes Dodge
    
    Over my window the ivy climbs;
    Its roots are in homely jars,
    But all day long it looks at the sun,
    And at night looks out at the stars.
    
    The dust of the room may dim its green,
    But I call to the breezy air:
    "Come in, come in, good friend of mine!
    And make my garden fair."
    
    So the ivy thrives from morn to morn,
    Its leaves all turned to the light;
    And it gladdens my soul with its tender green,
    And teaches me day and night.
    
    What though my lot is in lonely place,
    And my spirit behind the bars?
    All the long day I may look at the sun,
    And at night look out at the stars.
    
    What though the dust of earth would dim?
    There's a glorious outer air
    That will sweep through my soul if I let it in,
    And make it fresh and fair.
    
    Dear God! let me grow from day to day,
    Clinging and sunny and bright!
    Though planted in shade, thy window is near,
    And my leaves may turn to the light.




36. Beauty And Time
    Poet: Austin Dobson
    
    The Rose in the garden slipped her bud,
    And she laughed in the pride of her youthful blood.
    As she thought of the Gardener standing by -
    "He is old - so old! And he soon will die!"
    
    The full Rose waxed in the warm June air,
    And she spread, and spread, till her heart lay bare;
    And she laughed once more as she heard his tread -
    "He is older now. He will soon be dead!"
    
    But the breeze of the morning blew, and found
    That the leaves of the blown Rose strewed the ground;
    And he came at noon, that Gardener old,
    And he raked them softly under the mould.
    
    And I wove the thing to a random rhyme.
    For the Rose is Beauty, the Gardener Time.




37. The Gentle Gardener
    Poet: Edgar A. Guest
    
    I'd like to leave but daffodils to mark my little way,
    To leave but tulips red and white behind me as I stray;
    I'd like to pass away from earth and feel I'd left behind
    But roses and forget-me-nots for all who come to find.
    
    I'd like to sow the barren spots with all the flowers of earth,
    To leave a path where those who come should find but gentle mirth;
    And when at last I'm called upon to join the heavenly throng
    I'd like to feel along my way I'd left no sign of wrong.
    
    And yet the cares are many and the hours of toil are few;
    There is not time enough on earth for all I'd like to do;
    But, having lived and having toiled, I'd like the world to find
    Some little touch of beauty that my soul had left behind.




38. Morning Glory Buds
    Poet: J. H. Johnston
    
    No folded morning-glory bud
    Blooms, closes fast, then blooms again:
    Once shaken out, the colors fade,
    The beauty's gone for aye, — but then,
    
    New buds will open to the day
    When next the early morn awakes;
    So, though some bright things pass away,
    My heart some hopeful comfort takes.
    
    Our "life hath many mornings," so
    Hath said some rarely gifted one;
    And morning-glory buds will bloom
    With every summer-morning sun.




39. The Little White Flower
    Poet: Florence Scollard Brown
    
    A little white flower so pure and rare
    Once shyly grew by a garden wall.
    The Gardener turned from the roses tall
    To gather - long He had watched her there -
    The happy little white flower.
    
    But softer ever the breezes blew,
    And sweeter carols the songsters trilled;
    Prayers more earnest the garden filled,
    Hearts grew cleaner and lives more true
    Because of the little white flower.




40. The Garden
    Poet: John Kendrick Bangs
    
    My heart and mind
    I daily find
    A sort of fertile garden fair,
    Where I can play
    And work each day
    In hope of prizes rich and rare.
    
    I have no doubt
    If I weed out
    The thorns of malice and untruth,
    And plant the seeds
    Of helpful deeds,
    I'll reap the Rose of Lasting Youth!




41. Beauty In Humble Places
    Poet: Strickland Gillilan
    
    The flowers that have blossomed in the little ugly places -
    Arbutus-bloom, hepatica, wake-robin and the rest;
    The blossoms that have glorified the dingy little spaces -
    Of all the flowers blossoming, to me they seem the best!
    
    The rose that crowns the rose-hedge where there's plenty more of beauty;
    The tulip in the border where a world of tulips grow -
    All these are faithful servitors that nobly do their duty.
    Be mine the flowers blooming where no other beauties show!
    
    Oh, humble little blossoms in the ugly little places,
    How much we human garden plants may learn from such as you!
    Why spend our time complaining of our dingy little spaces
    Instead of doing bravely just the best that we can do?




42. Bounty Of Gifts
    Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
    
    Sown in the earth, seeds begin to grow;
    No time for doubt, just pause and know,
    That satisfaction comes from planting a garden so.
    Watching carefully as each seed takes root and grows.
    
    Each day brings new growth and life does spout.
    With patience comes reward for hard work no doubt.
    Now harvesting vegetables to eat is the treat;
    The bounty of these green gifts can’t be beat!