Friends, books, a garden, and perhaps his pen,
Delightful industry enjoy'd at home,
An Nature, in her cultivated trim
Dress'ed to his taste, inviting him abroad -
Can he want occupation who has these?
I know that if odour were visible, as colour is,
I'd see the summer garden in rainbow clouds.
With a few flowers in my garden,
half a dozen pictures
and some books,
I live without envy.
Lope de Vega
We learn from our gardens
to deal with the most
urgent question of the time:
How much is enough?
With rake and seeds and sower,
And hoe and line and reel,
When the meadows shrill with "peeping"
And the old world wakes from sleeping,
Who wouldn't be a grower
That has any heart to feel?
Frederick Frye Rockwell
When I dance, I dance,
when I sleep, I sleep;
yes, and when I walk
alone in a beautiful orchard,
if my thoughts drift to far-off matters
for some part of the time,
for some other part I lead them back
again to the walk, the orchard,
to the sweetness of this solitude,
There's a garden where the peppers
Were all growing on the vine,
The tomatoes and the pumpkins
And the string beans, very fine.
Harmony had been so perfect
In this garden where they grew;
And the sunshine and the showers
Came to nourish them, they knew.
Each one praised the others' beauty,
Praised their colors and their shapes,
From the tiny, little onion
To the luscious, purple grapes...
Gertrude Tooley Buckingham
Grass is the forgiveness of nature -
her constant benediction.
Forests decay, harvests perish, flowers vanish,
but grass is immortal.
An acre of land between the shore and the hills.
A garden I need never go beyond,
Broken but neat, whose sunflowers every one
Are fit to be the sign of the Rising Sun.
My lilac trees are old and tall;
I cannot reach their bloom at all.
They send their perfume over trees
And roof and streets, to find the bees.
A thing of beauty is a joy forever:
its loveliness increases;
it will never pass into nothingness.