At Parting II
AND you could leave me now--
After the first remembered whispered vow
Which sings for ever and ever in my ears--
The vow which God among His Angels hears--
After the long-drawn years,
The slow hard tears,
Could break new ground, and wake
A new strange garden to blossom for your sake,
And leave me here alone,
In the old garden that was once our own?
How should I learn to bear
Our garden's pleasant ways and pleasant air,
Her flowers, her fruits, her lily, her rose and thorn,
When only in a picture these appear--
These, once alive, and always over-dear?
Ah--think again: the rose you used to wear
Must still be more than other roses be
The flower of flowers. Ah, pity, pity me!
For in my acres is no plot of ground
Whereon could any garden site be found,
I have but little skill
To water weed and till
And make the desert blossom like the rose;
Yet our old garden knows
If I have loved its ways and walks and kept
The garden watered, and the pleasance swept.
Yet--if you must--go now:
Go, with my blessing filling both your hands,
And, mid the desert sands
Which life drifts deep round every garden wall,
Make your new festival
Of bud and blossom--red rose and green leaf.
No blight born of my grief
Shall touch your garden, love; but my heart's prayer
Shall draw down blessings on you from the air,
And all we learned of leaf and plant and tree
Shall serve you when you walk no more with me
In garden ways; and when with her you tread
The pleasant ways with blossoms overhead
And when she asks, 'How did you come to know
The secrets of the ways these green things grow?'
Then you will answer--and I, please God, hear,
'I had another garden once, my dear'.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Related quotes
Margaret
I KNOW a garden where white lilies grow,
Under the grey sweet-laden apple boughs;
It is a garden where the roses blow,
And honeysuckle covers half the house.
O happy garden, do you keep the vows
Breathed in your quiet ear beneath the rose,
Or do you tell the tale to each soft wind that blows?
Across your grassy paths she used to stray,
She moved among you like a living flower,
Her beauty drank your beauty every day,
Your beauty decked her beauty every hour.
You gave her rose and lily for a dower,
With all sweet flowers and fruits your bosom bore--
She took them all--and now she comes not any more.
O garden, if you breathe such secret things
To the south wind who loves you, tell him this:
To spread the scented softness of his wings,
And seek that other garden where she is,
And bid him bear no blossom and no kiss;
Only, dear garden, tell the wind to say
How grey the world is grown since Margaret went away!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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I Plucked A Rose From A Garden Green......
By Murtaza Abt
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
Of beauty never felt or seen,
Hoping that it would never wilt,
And always be as always been.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
with a happy blissful heart,
And promised i would hold it tight,
And never would we part.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
But little did i know,
That not in endless love and care,
But gardens do they grow.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And took it home with me,
But little did it stay the way,
The way t'was meant to be.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And it began to grieve,
Over gardens green and meadows lush,
As it was sad to leave.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And it began to wilt,
And wither in that unknown land,
it filled my heart with guilt.
I plucked a rose from a garden green,
And it began to die,
For happiness i had only asked,
But i began to cry.
....................................
I have p L ucked y O u from a garden green,
Your beauty i VE never felt or seen,
Hoping that YOU will never wilt,
And always be as always been.
09/Nov/09
poem by Murtaza Abt
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In the Garden, With My Father
It is spring.
As in my garden, I stand.
In the garden -
My father is there;
... though long since gone...
He IS there.
I tend to the weeds,
The veggies and flowers...
He is there.
I never understood him
(as I should have, could have) ...
Until now,
Here, in the garden.
Where I, like he, work the soil.
I've come just recently
(these last few years)
To enjoy and love my garden so.
- I am not as surprised afterall, as I would have thought,
To find him here.
Here, in the garden.
He loved his garden very much.......
I - at that early age of restless youth - had no use
For such slow moving things.
But now, I see, and myself move, at a much slower pace.
Therefore, it is him I am here and now able to see,
In the garden.
Watching it all grow, so peacefully.
It is somewhat sad, that now,
When I can no longer tell him,
I understand.
For I have come to find... I love the garden too,
Just as much as he;
And we both always will.
My father - standing in the garden -
I now know.
After all these long years.
And I've missed him so;
But, how wonderful to find,
He IS here...
In the garden, our garden,
Always, with me.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Thorn & A Wlid Rose
By d. toler, t. colton & b. waibel
He came from the streets, she came from the mountains
A faded star and an angel without wings,
Their passions flowed like a deep running river
They had nothing left to lose and everything to gain and he said
Lets make a garden said the thorn to the wild rose,
Plant some seeds deep in the ground,
Lets make a garden said the thorn to the wild rose,
Strong enough to hold us down
Seasons will change, well last forever well see the snow and the
Falling of the leaves
High on the hill with the sky all around us, well watch it grow
From two wild seeds
Lets make a garden said the thorn to the wild rose,
Plant some seeds deep in the ground,
Lets make a garden said the thorn to the wild rose,
Where its springtime all around
Solo
He came from the streets, she came from the mountains
A faded star and an angel without wings,
Their passions flowed like a deep running river
They had nothing left to lose and everything to gain and he said
Lets make a garden said the thorn to the wild rose,
Plant some seeds deep in the ground,
Lets make a garden said the thorn to the wild rose,
Where its springtime all around
Lets make a garden said the thorn to the wild rose,
Plant some seeds deep in the ground,
Lets make a garden said the thorn to the wild rose,
Where its springtime all around
song performed by by Allman Brothers Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Childhood Garden
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
lush and green
it was so happy it made me scream
my joy and hopes
and all my mopes
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
with the ups and downs
when i jumped i could not touch the ground
with my purle ponys
it made it homey
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
flying high
with the little lies
the grass fine
up in the sky my kite
my childhood garden
my childhood garden
now in the past
i now know that it can never last
now as i get taller
it was differnt when i was smaller
my childhood garden
poem by Danielle Eager
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In the spring garden
In the spring garden
~
In the spring garden
Birds sing and chatter
While flowers raise their heads
To greet the morning sun
A garden filled with colour bright
A garden which now fills with life
The bee and the butterfly hover
From flower to flower gathering nectar
Seeding the flowers blossom
Throughout the spring garden
The dew glistens upon the grass
While the wind gently rolls in the tree
All the world slowly waking
Soon to this bounty of great beauty
Every hue from natures pallet
Is here free for all to see
In the spring garden
poem by Matthew Holloway
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When You Define A Thing
when you define
a thing, you limit it,
it is like fencing
your garden
the garden becomes
a set of exclusive
flowers, and anything
not like it becomes
a weed, and anything
that moves
becomes a pest
it is not that you
do not define, we do
it sometimes
only to understand
the limits of
understanding,
but we must be open
to other possibilities
of a garden,
a garden of stones
a garden of sand
of mud, of water
a fountain, a garden
of winds, of clouds
a garden of memories
like a poem
for instance, a garden
of words,
words with arms open
to the magic
of further creation
words still trying
to define themselves
in the garden
of the unknown
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Our Marriage Is Our Garden
Our marriage is our garden.
I want our garden to be beautiful.
With lush green grass,
With fragrant and colourful flowers.
A place of solace.
A place of peace.
A place of love.
Our garden must be watered.
Not watered too much.
As that would saturate the ground.
Not watered too little.
As that would leave the plants wilted.
And our grass barren.
But regularly.
So the flowers can stand tall
It must be weeded.
It must be maintained.
It must be loved.
We will plant seeds in our garden.
For new life makes any garden more beautiful and diverse.
We can harvest the fruit trees, but our harvest is limited
If we eat all the fruit too quick,
Then we must wait until the next harvest to eat again.
If we don't pick the fruit when it is right, it will spoil.
Our harvest is for our family.
If I eat all the fruit myself, then they will starve.
If we eat too much we will get sick.
If we eat what we are supposed to, then we will be healthy.
If we do not monitor the fruit,
Then someone might eat more than their share.
If we do not stand guard in our garden,
A thief might come into the garden to steal our fruit.
The fruit for our family.
For their garden must be barren and their crops have spoiled.
Our garden will stand the test of all seasons.
As all gardens do.
Another garden will also experience the same seasons.
Just at different times.
All gardens face rain.
All gardens get sun.
It is the rain that nourishes the garden and helps it's life to grow.
But our garden must be maintained regularly.
Only artificial things require no maintenance.
The artificial has no life.
It is fake, it is plastic.
Our garden needs to be real.
So life may grow and continue to grow.
So one day our children can enjoy a garden of their own.
For them and their children.
May their garden be overflowing with life and love.
And be the most beautiful garden in the world.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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We have a Little Garden
WE have a little garden,
A garden of our own,
And every day we water there
The seeds that we have sown.
WE love our little garden,
And tend it with such care,
You will not find a faced leaf
Or blighted blossom there.
poem by Beatrix Potter
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Garden
Do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe that he was there
Do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe or do you care
Did he rise from the ashes and lead the sky above
Did he lie in the name of love
....in the garden
Do you believe in the path that you follow
Do you believe it takes you where you want
Do you believe in the lies that you swallow
Do you believe it takes you where you go
See the man. he never lies he never will
Did he fight for the right to kill
....in the garden
....in the garden
Theres a little man in a house alone...waiting
He doesnt lie.
He doesnt wait for love to hold on to
He doesnt lie. he doesnt wait...
Johnnys in the garden
I see the err in my ways
....in the garden
Do you believe in the man in the garden
song performed by by Five For Fighting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Garden
Do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe that he was there
Do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe or do you care
Did he rise from the ashes and lead the sky above
Did he lie in the name of love
....in the garden
Do you believe in the path that you follow
Do you believe it takes you where you want
Do you believe in the lies that you swallow
Do you believe it takes you where you go
See the man. he never lies he never will
Did he fight for the right to kill
....in the garden
....in the garden
Theres a little man in a house alone...waiting
He doesnt lie.
He doesnt wait for love to hold on to
He doesnt lie. he doesnt wait...
Johnnys in the garden
I see the err in my ways
....in the garden
Do you believe in the man in the garden
song performed by by Five For Fighting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Garden, The
do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe that he was there
Do you believe in the man in the garden
Do you believe or do you care
Did he rise from the ashes and lead the sky above
Did he lie in the name of love
....in the garden
Do you believe in the path that you follow
Do you believe it takes you where you want
Do you believe in the lies that you swallow
Do you believe it takes you where you go
See the man. he never lies he never will
Did he fight for the right to kill
....in the garden
....in the garden
There's a little man in a house alone...waiting
He doesn't lie.
He doesn't wait for love to hold on to
He doesn't lie. he doesn't wait...
Johnny's in the garden
I see the err in my ways
....in the garden
Do you believe in the man in the garden
song performed by by Five For Fighting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Matters Most, Your Wife
He was a Bee in a Rose-garden,
Seeking nectar from its flowers;
Unable to quench his thirst, one day,
He had soon forgotten that
She was a Rose in the same garden!
His wife- a flower so rare,
Beautiful beyond compare,
Ready to blossom some day,
To perfume his life some way.
To forgive is divine, err mundane;
To learn from other’s blunders- humane;
So, forget the past and start afresh,
For you aren’t too old today!
When the devil can get credit,
Why not your wife her bit?
’Tis better late than never
To make up with her some way!
For, se is a Rose in your own garden,
A flower so very, very rare,
Beautiful beyond compare,
Waiting to serve all through life,
She matters most, your Wife!
My first poem ever written that was readied
In May,1998, coinciding with India’s Pokhran II
Blasts and has remained unaltered till date
poem by John Celes
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The Disgarded Garden
Their once was a young man who wanted to become a Gardner. There once was a young Rose Tree that wanted a Gardener. They met each other one summer day and began what seemed to be a beautiful relationship. The Gardner was attentive of his garden along with his Rose Tree and the Rose Tree was so happy that its tender branches grew and it bloomed continuously for the Gardner so he’d always be happy.
As time went by the Rose Tree noticed that Gardner wouldn’t tend to her as much as he once did. And when he did he would cut away harshly at the Rose Tree. The Rose Tree being a simple plant who did not need much attention still bloomed for the Gardner. It seemed the more she tried, the more the Gardner would cut away and the tree was now nestled in the ground. Why could this be? He had a bountiful garden that any Gardner would have loved to have. What more could anyone want thought the Rose Tree.
Now in an abandoned garden the Rose Tree grows back its branches, with very thick thorn’s to protect it self. As time goes by one day, out of nowhere appears a Gardener who has silently admired the Rose Tree from outside the garden gates and begins to nurture the Rose Tree in her garden. He tenderly and sympathetically pulls away all the weeds and brush from the Rose Tree so the air, rain & sunshine can reach her again. Allowing her the opportunity to grow back as she once was; vibrant, strong, colorful and to be simply, herself.
This is something the Rose Tree had long forgotten and is very grateful for the loving words of encouragement and kindness that her new Gardner has shown. She longingly awaits for his visits and when the Gardner comes to see her she bloom’s for him and relaxes underneath his beautifully kind smile. My darling Gardner, I am glad fate has brought you to walk along the path leading to the once lost garden and Rose Tree.
poem by Sarah Barron
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The Garden
I know a garden like a child,
Clean and new-washed and reconciled.
It grows its own sweet way, yet still
Has guidance of some tender will
That clips, confines, its wilder mood
And makes it happy, being good.
Around the lordly mountains stand,
For this is an enchanted land,
As though their splendours stood to grace
This little lovely garden place,
Looking with wise and keeping eyes
Upon the garden sanctities.
Box borders edge each little bed,
Paths narrow for a child to tread
Divide the kitchen garden, dear
And sweet with musk and lavender,
And water-mints and beans in bloom.
Be sure the honeybee's at home.
How should I tell in a sweet list
Of beauties, rose and amethyst;
The little water-garden cool
On sultry days, and beautiful
The wall-garden, the shade, the sun,
Since they are lovely, every one.
Hot honey of the pines is sweet,
And when the day's at three o'clock heat
A winding walk will you invite
To a new garden out of sight.
And a green seat is set so near
The sluggish, stealing backwater.
The Spirit of the garden plays
At hide-and-seek an hundred ways
And when you've captured her, she will
Elude you, calling backward still,
A silver echo -- a sweet child,
Demure and lovesome, gay and wild.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Weed
There was an old woman
that planted a garden.
And in the garden
there grew a weed.
The weed grew next to
a beautiful flower.
The flower had grown
from a tiny seed.
The weed was strong
and would not bend.
The wind did blow
and it did send
the seeds from the flower
into the air.
They circled around
and landed where
the weed was growing
next to the flower.
Soon the weed was
surrounded by flowers.
It loved where it was
and looked by the hours
at all of the beautiful
colorful flowers.
The old woman who planted
the garden one day
decided that she would
make a bouquet.
She went to the garden
to cut the flowers.
But when she got there
down came the showers.
The raindrops that fell
made the weed shine
which made the old woman
change her mind.
She left them alone
in her garden and knew
that the weed belonged
with the flowers that grew.
She'd planted the flowers.
God planted the weed.
The garden was perfect.
No bouquet did she need.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Flowers or garden
There are beautiful blossoms
In the garden
And the garden looks gorgeous
I often think
Whether it is flowers which make
A garden beautiful or
It is a garden that enhances the beauty of flowers
But it is certain that both are
Incomplete without each other.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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A Blue Rose!
Genetically modified flower blue rose is unique!
Rose colour gives hope of future by its very look;
Red rose is unique among flowers as it is queen
In the flower world nobody can deny having it!
Yellow rose shines bright in the long green garden
Full of many trees and other flower plants broad!
Pink rose flowers are many everywhere as border
Mainly in the botanical garden of hill stations here!
Blue rose, a new addition in the flower kingdom
Among lavender, blue bells and rare kurinjis of
Light blue, violet and ink blue colours everywhere
Stands majestic and having healing touch to all!
Rose is rose by whatever name it is called and also
Rose is rose by whatever colour it is produced ever!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Sonnet- Control Desires, Man
A single Rose can well perfume your house;
One Rose can make your garden beautiful;
In life, you need a single house, car, spouse;
And something more is utterly wasteful.
Why fail to smell your garden-Rose but see,
The flowers wild, which meadows grow road-side?
Why fail to pluck fruits from your own fruit-tree,
Yet, long for one which is your neighbour's pride?
Be content Man, with whatever God gives;
Never covet thy neighbour's ways, life, goods;
A happy man with contented heart lives;
with pleasure, pain comes from quixotic goods.
Control desires, lest, they control you;
Is not the wayside beggar happy too?
poem by John Celes
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Seed-Time And Harvest
MY hollyhocks are all awake,
And not a single rose is lost;
My wallflowers, for dear pity's sake,
Have fought the winter's cruel frost;
Pink peony buds begin to peer,
And flags push up their sword-blades fine:
I know there will not be this year
A brighter garden plot than mine.
I'll sow the seeds of mignonette,
Of snapdragon and sunflowers tall,
And scarlet poppies I will set
To flower against the southern wall;
Already all my lilies show
The green crowns baby lilies wear,
And all my flowers will grow and blow,
Because Love's hand has set them there.
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!'
poem by Edith Nesbit
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