We’ve never been shy regarding talking about our love of gardening in the spring at Postconsumers. From advice and how-to to inspirations and quotes, we’ve got an entire section of this blog devoted to the glory of the garden. But somehow, despite our mutual love of gardening and poetry, we’ve never shared our favorite poems on the topic of the garden. Until, of course, today, when it is the subject of choice on the blog.


“I trust your Garden was willing to die … I do not think that mine was—it perished with beautiful reluctance, like an evening star—”
—Emily Dickinson, in a letter to her Aunt Katie Sweetser, 1880


To Linger in a Garden Fair

MIRTH, Spring, to linger in a garden fair,
What more has earth to give? All ye that wait,
Where is the Cup-bearer, the flagon where?
When pleasant hours slip from the hand of Fate,
Reckon each hour as a certain gain;
Who seeks to know the end of mortal care
Shall question his experience in vain.

Thy fettered life hangs on a single thread–
Some comfort for thy present ills devise,
But those that time may bring thou shalt not dread.
Waters of Life and Irem’s Paradise–
What meaning do our dreams and pomp convey,
Save that beside a mighty stream, wide-fed,
We sit and sing of wine and go our way!

The modest and the merry shall be seen
To boast their kinship with a single voice;
There are no differences to choose between,
Thou art but flattering thy soul with choice!
Who knows the Curtain’s secret? . . . Heaven is mute
And yet with Him who holds the Curtain, e’en
With Him, oh Braggart, thou would’st raise dispute!

Although His thrall shall miss the road and err,
‘Tis but to teach him wisdom through distress,
Else Pardon and Compassionate Mercy were
But empty syllables and meaningless.
The Zealot thirsts for draughts of Kausar’s wine,
And Hafiz doth an earthly cup prefer–
But what, between the two, is God’s design?



My Garden Is My Sanctuary

As I look out to my garden
I feel a sense of pride
It really is a lovely room
Except it is outside.

Where lovely things mix and match
And greenery fills the walls
The sound of trickling water
Coming from the gold fish pond.

I love the sight of stones and rocks
And driftwood and tree ferns too
The sounds of all my chimes
I know you would like it too.

With pride I walk around my garden
And savour each scent and smell
Colours of yellow, red and gold
Striped cushion on a bench.

The bird bath has its own domain
It’s placed beside a wooden arch
Where all the birds come to bathe
And drink when they are parched.

Ladybirds can hide away
Sometimes they come out to see
What’s happening around them
With caterpillars and the bees.

There’s not much more that I can say
Except if you have your own
It won’t take long to build it up
Seeds will bloom once they are sown.

– Marie Church


Pulling Onions

A callused palm and dirty fingernails precede a Green Thumb.
Wishes are like seeds, few ever develop into something.
Sitting in a garden and doing nothing is high art everywhere.
Beauty is the Mistress, the gardener Her slave.
Complexity is closer to the truth.
When all the chores are done, the avid gardener will invent some new ones.
Where are the fig blossoms?  Exceptions to every rule.
Only two percent of all insects are harmful.  Why are they all in my garden?
The joyful gardener is evidence of an incarnation.
As with most arts, gardening is an expression of our hands.
To dig is to discover.
The ten thousand things are more enchanting than the Silent One.
To lift the mind, move the body.
Gardening is a slower path to a richer sensuality.
To garden is to open your heart to the sky.
The road to flourishing needs regular maintenance and repairs.
The present is merely a fleeting moment; we actually unearth our essence in our past and create ourselves in the future.
Having a poor memory helps a great deal in finding happiness.
A garden is a feeling.
Absolutes squirm beneath realities.
Your never too old to embrace a stupid idea.
The end of the garden is at the end of a hose.
A gardener loves the rain; also, for the resting time it brings.
In general, be more specific.
The Laws of Gardening are mostly local ordinances.
Sitting in a garden and doing nothing is high art everywhere.
Gardening is but one battle against Chaos.”

–  Michael P. Garofalo


 Seed-Time and Harvest from the Pomander of Verse

“I’ll plant and water, sow and weed,
Till not an inch of earth shows brown,
And take a vow of each small seed
To grow to greenness and renown:
And then some day you’ll pass my way,
See gold and crimson, bell and star,
And catch my garden’s soul, and say:
“How sweet these cottage gardens are!” ”

–  Edith Nesbit


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