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9 Poems about Grass and Lawns
Grass and lawns add a quiet beauty to the places we call home. Whether the grass is lush and green, or touched by dry weather and changing seasons, it still reminds us of nature's simple lessons. These poems about grass and lawns offer thoughts on beauty, patience, work, and appreciation. You may also enjoy more inspiration in our collection of garden poems.
Updated June 1, 2026, by Catherine Pulsifer.
The Grass Is Home To ...
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
The grass is home to nature's creations,
Crawling creatures and buzzing sensations.
Busy insects flit to and fro,
Pesky ones, I wish you'd go!
Grasshoppers hop in our gardens green,
Butterflies! I'm oh so keen.
Raindrops sparkle on the blade with dew,
In the grass for me 'n you.
Grass Is Immortal
Poet: Brian Ingalls
Grass is the forgiveness of nature -
her constant benediction.
Forests decay, harvests perish, flowers vanish,
but grass is immortal.
Creeping Everywhere
Poet: Sarah Roberts Boyle
Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere;
My humble song of praise
Most joyfully I raise To Him at whose command
I beautify the land,
Creeping, silently creeping everywhere.
God Bless The Grass
Poet: Malvina Reynolds
God Bless the grass
That grows through the crack they roll the concrete over it
To try and keep it back the concrete gets tired
Of what it has to do it breaks and it buckles
And the grass grows through.
God bless the grass
Beauty Of The Grass
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
The grass that surrounds our gardens
In luscious hues of green
Enhances beauty and grandeur
Of nature seldom seen.
It grows so tall and so proud
Covering the shape of the land,
Whispering secrets in the wind
Each and every strand.
It brings solace on a warm night
Under twinkling stars aglow,
Letting us be close to nature's grace -
Aye, this beauty of the grass we do know.
The Lawn Mower
Poet: Sarah Barber
When we finally flip it over
the fireflies are out. The neighbor boy
has had his stitches in so I can finally admit
I think it is all fantastic: the suck
of the spark plug undone, the stuck blade
bent into the guard, and the sound
of the hammer’s head reshaping the metal.
In this our suburban Eden we’ve only
a teenage Adam too dreamy to manage
his motorized scythe and silly Eve leaving
her coffee cups and plastic plant pots
behind in the grass. Though it’s a long way
from a fall, this spring’s first disaster,
I did like the thin thread of red
on his upper lip, and I like my mower
turned over among the glowworms,
a monstrous dandelion as unnatural as we
are, out in a garden, with our untidy
golds and our dangerous sharps.
Mow Again!
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
Oh sweet grass, a never-ending task
That awaits me each morn, to which I must ask
If it could only bear a cob of corn?
Then I would not feel so worn.
My lawnmower sings a steady hum
As I stride across the emerald gums
Sweat drips from my brow and my mind will succumb
To the thought of another week before it's done.
But for now, I carry on with a song
Your vast blades are far too long.
For such a small gardener who's trying to stay ahead
Please forgive me - I have to mow again before it spreads!
The Grass?
Poet: Walt Whitman
A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands;
How could I answer the child?. . . .I do not know what it is any more than he.
I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.
Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropped,
Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose?
Or I guess the grass is itself a child. . . .the produced babe of the vegetation.
Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,
And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones,
Growing among black folks as among white,
Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same.
And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.
Tenderly will I use you curling grass,
It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men,
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them;
It may be you are from old people and from women, and from offspring taken soon out of their mother's laps,
And here you are the mother's laps.
This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers,
Darker than the colorless beards of old men,
Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.
O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues!
And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing.
I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women,
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps.
What do you think has become of the young and old men?
What do you think has become of the women and children?
They are alive and well somewhere;
The smallest sprouts show there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it,
And ceased the moment life appeared.
All goes onward and outward. . . .and nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
Not Every Lawn Is Green
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
We all would love a lawn of green,
The finest grass we've ever seen.
Soft and lush beneath our feet,
Making every yard complete.
But seasons change and weather too,
And life brings challenges we must go through.
The summer sun may scorch the ground,
Leaving patches brown all around.
A lack of rain, a cold spring day,
Can cause the brightest green to fade away.
Yet beauty is not only found
In perfect lawns spread all around.
For gardens bloom and birds still sing,
And joy can come from simple things.
A backyard chair, a shady tree,
Can bring a sense of tranquility.
Rather than focus on what is not there,
Appreciate the blessings everywhere.
A lawn need not be flawless to show
The beauty that a home can grow.
So when your grass is not at its best,
Do not let worry fill your chest.
Nature teaches us every day,
That beauty comes in many ways.
Popular Pages:
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Conclusion
Our gardens are beautiful, and the grass and lawn surrounding them can add to their charm. Yet these poems remind us that beauty is not only found in perfection. A lawn may be green, dry, wild, or newly mowed, but it can still bring lessons of patience, gratitude, and hope. May these poems and verses inspire you to see the simple blessings growing right outside your door.
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