A Little Bit of Garden
We need no crown or sceptre,
for now that it is spring,
just a little bit of garden-
and every man's a king!
A little breadth of border,
a little patch of grass,
above it all the April sky
where soft the south winds pass.
A spade and rake for comrades,
the smell of rain-wet mould,-
and every time we turn a clod
we turn a mint of gold.
A little bit of garden,
with daffodils a-swing,
and tulip-flowers whose crimson flags
are only flown for spring.
Shy blossoming primroses,
forget-me-nots of blue,
and here a blade and there a blade
of green things peeping through.
Who seeks for crown or sceptre
when every man's a ming
whose patch of cottage garden
has felt the feet of Spring!
poem by William Henry Ogilvie
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Related quotes
It is Spring Time
It is Spring Time
It is spring time.
I can smell it in the air.
I can smell the flowers.
I can smell the grass.
I can touch the grass.
I can touch and taste the vegetable growing in the garden.
The weather is changing.
The weather is warming up.
The trees are blossoming.
The flowers are blossoming.
It is spring time.
Easter has passed.
Beltane has passed.
Spring and May is here.
This is the time to tend to your garden and planted some flowers.
Some people pray to God to protect their garden.
Some people pray to Mother Nature for protect.
I do both and I thank God for this planet.
It is Spring Time.
The animals and bugs come out to play.
The frogs jump around the pond.
The wildflower comes out.
The sky is clean and blue.
The sun is shining.
The horses are running free.
The sunflowers are growing.
When seasons the earth also changes it is a beautiful way.
Nature is every where.
It is spring time.
There is rain and storm.
The trees have leaves and it arms.
The trees are ancient.
An apple falls down from the trees.
This is what thinks spring time is for me.
Spring time is beautiful.
Spring time is when nature is beautiful.
It is spring time.
Spring time is here.
The rabbits come out, and hop round.
The bees are collection honey for us.
The tulips are blossoming.
The roses are blossoming, and looking so beautiful.
The lavender is purple and bright.
Spring time is a time to celebrate.
Spring time is a time to clean our environment.
It is spring time.
Spring time is a time when rain falls.
Spring time is the time when the seasons changes.
Spring time is when the plants grow.
Spring time is my favorite season.
Spring time is the time to be happy.
It is spring time.
poem by Crystal Chown
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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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Song V
THE sunshine of your presence lies
On the glad garden of my heart
And bids the leaves of silence part
To show the flowers to your dear eyes,
And flower on flower blooms there and dies
And still new buds awakened spring,
For sunshine makes the garden wise,
To know the time for blossoming.
Night is no time for blossoming,
Your garden then dreams otherwise,
Of vanished Summer, vanished Spring,
And how the dearest flower first dies.
Yet from your ministering eyes
Though night hath drawn me far apart
On the still garden of my heart
The moonlight of your memory lies.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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A Love Spring
So Spring warm weather upon with you watch
bloom flowers: Tulip, Orchid, Cherry ect..
That awake Springtime beautiful blue sky
With me, feeling of peace with Spring
Pollen of the flowers trees everywhere
To let you know the Spring coming
Green grass with flowers fill us with joy
Outdoor full of activities
Spring gently warm our souls
To the Spring 's love within you and me forever.
poem by Natasa Tocuc
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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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A Good Friend To Me
The gold billed blackbird whistling upon the the garden tree
For the past few years a good neighbour to me
He whistles every day all through the Spring
And his song to it has a distinctive ring.
From the other all dark males of his race him I know
Since on his left wing a few flight feathers white as snow
He tells other males of his kind in his song
This patch of ground to me and mine belong.
Each time I hear the blackbird pipe and sing
My thoughts return to the far northern Spring
On Spring evenings in groves by Millstreet Town
The blackbirds pipe before the sun goes down.
The blackbird whistling on the wattle tree
He only sings to proclaim territory
His neighbour males the warning in his song hear
And his border they dare not venture near.
The blackbird in the garden a good friend to me
I know him by sight each time him I see
By the few white feathers on his left side wing
And his song it takes me to the Northern Spring.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Maiden's Prayer
SPRING, pretty Spring, what treasure do you bring to me?
Green grass and buttercups, cherry-bloom and may?
Sunshine to be glad with me, and little birds to sing to me?
Warm nests to call me along the woodland way?
Spring, happy Spring, what wonder will you do for me?
Light the tulip lanterns, and set the furze a-fire?
Fill your sky with sails of cloud on waves of living blue for me?
Show me green cornfields and budding of the briar?
Spring, darling Spring, my days will not return to me,
You who see them fleeting, you, all time above,
You who move the whole world's heart, ah move one heart to turn to me,
--Bring me a lover, and teach me how to love!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Garden
My heart is a garden tired with autumn,
Heaped with bending asters and dahlias heavy and dark,
In the hazy sunshine, the garden remembers April,
The drench of rains and a snow-drop quick and clear as a spark;
Daffodils blowing in the cold wind of morning,
And golden tulips, goblets holding the rain --
The garden will be hushed with snow, forgotten soon, forgotten --
After the stillness, will spring come again?
poem by Sara Teasdale
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I Owe A Debt To Spring II
Oh, I owe a debt to spring!
She brought me wild flowers and
Hardy daffodils,
Beautiful, velvet, green carpeted hills.
She brought the mist of April showers,
With the promised bloom of May flowers.
Birds came back to sin,
Oh, I owe a debt to spring!
I see the colors of a rainbow dancing
Across the sky,
Spring came in with a lullaby.
I owe a debt to spring for the love
You bring to me, my love, to me!
I shall plant moss roses, dear spring,
To dance at your feet,
Spring time is the best time for nature's
bouquet of happiness complete...
O, I owe a debt to spring, for you, my love,
For you!
Dorothy Alves Holmes
A Poet Who Loves To Sing
poem by Dorothy Holmes
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Gift
You were like the gift of Spring--
A bouquet of Red Roses and Babys Breath...
You rescued me from an empty sea...
Saving me from a loveless death.
Oh the regrets i held so deep--
Fathomless and nearly beyond repair...
But you were like the gift of Spring--
Tell you- there were blossoms everywhere.
You were a virtual meadow of forget-me-nots...
Altering my depths with loving care...
Becoming an ocean of scintilating waves of rapture...
A verdent garden of bloom scented oceanic air.
Yes -you were like the gift of Spring--
A garden-a bloom-a calm and fulfilled sea...
You were my miracle i oft' prayed for...
Binding us together for eternity.
The Essence
June 14,2010
Dedicated to: My husband.
poem by Theodora Onken
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The Gardener
For Violet
In the garden she hath found
Herb of grace and fever-few;
Woundwort there doth much abound,
Heartsease too.
Where she laid dead things away
In the chilly earth, what stir!
Whisper of Spring-time, green and gay,
Comes to her.
All Sweet-Nancies, daffodils,
Talking in their beds below
Of sweet vales and shining hills
Whither they go.
In the garden there's no grief;
God walks there and He is kind,
When the first dear crumpled leaf
Shakes in the wind.
There's no death now. Winter's done.
All's given back. The dead again
Walk with her in the wind and sun
And the sweet rain.
Heartsease in her garden plot,
Ladders-to-Heaven scale the skies;
While the dear forget-me-not
Brightens her eyes.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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My Rainbow Garden
I have a Rainbow Garden
For inside of it you’ll see
Every color you would find
What a rainbow ought to be
The blue is for Forget-me-knots
Yellow for Daffodils
Red is for my gladiolas
My flowers are such a thrill
Green creates the many leaves
Of my Rainbow Garden too
I get such peacefulness
I would love to show it to you
My roses, oh I have many
My palette of color shades
I must enjoy them daily
For the time for them will fade
So if you’re feeling weary
And you don’t know what to do
Plant flowers of all colors
And have a Rainbow Garden too!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Spring Has Sprung
Spring has sprung
With the abundance
Of blossoming flowers
The feel of affection
With kindling of love
When two souls meet
The spring bring such delight
In the early morning light
With hearts of satisfaction
Spring brings sweet smells
Of lily of the valley
Where the green grass grows
Where the water flows
And children are playing
With fun and laughter
One would say that
Spring has sprung
With such loveliness
That can only be felt
This time of year
With such an exhilaration
poem by Scott Austin
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An Early Day in May
May soothed
– sensual breeze caressing.
Snug, she cooed in floral chroma;
Gave artistic license – dressing up
Pubescent fields, teenage woods,
Jaded lanes; embellishing
Craggy watersides.
Warmth was kind – sun tempered,
Lifting life; erecting bluebell swathes
For good measure: late-spring treasure.
At hill’s base
A mirrored lake, brooding,
Bathed in halcyon haze –
Yet hectic life scurried,
Spurred on by procreational drive,
To see it all survived another year.
Back home, garden tulips flared,
Thrust aloft on rigid stems, and
Under day-time brilliance,
Open goblets, clustered,
Sought out heavenly guidance –
Lauding hallowed Tulipa gods.
May is Nature’s intermission –
Bridging April’s go-ahead
With hothead June.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
s pring spring spring spring spring spring
spring spring spring spring spring spring
spring spring spring spring spring spring
spring spring spring spring spring spring
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Rose is not fair
THE rose is not fair without the beloved's face,
Nor merry the Spring without the sweet laughter of wine;
The path through the fields, and winds from a flower strewn place,
Without her bright check, which glows like a tulip fine,
Nor winds softly blowing, fields deep in corn, are fair.
And lips like to sugar, grace like a flower that sways,
Are nought without kisses many and dalliance sweet;
If thousands of voices sang not the rose's praise,
The joy of the cypress her opening bud to greet,
Nor dancing of boughs nor blossoming rose were fair.
Though limned by most skilful fingers, no pictures please
Unless the beloved's image is drawn therein;
The garden and flowers, and hair flowing loose on the breeze,
Unless to my Lady's side I may strive and win,
Nor garden, nor flowers, nor loose flying curls are fair.
Hast seen at a marriage-feast, when the mirth runs high,
The revellers scatter gold with a careless hand?
The gold of thy heart, oh Hafiz, despised doth lie,
Not worthy thy love to be cast by a drunken band
At the feet of her who is fairer than all that's fair.
poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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Wondrous Budding Ever Loving Garden
The day's circular saw compact
welding torch of all the years
forward forging life force
cosmic mineral earth
the grains of pure charity
golden wheat of a clear light horizon
pastoral winds whisper the regenerate
self contained
secret of the soul
great water crest womb of time's garden
sprouting seeds sown
serene incubation
within the atmospheric bubble
well worked and accomplished
our dirt
living under the firm handed
fingernail sheild belonging
to the breathless
gentle touch soft stroke
creator
never ceasing (and yet)
always at peace
element's vast eternal sleep
O! such a wonderous and hungry
garden
(wonder not which garden)
our garden always
this garden of ever budding love
let us tend to the roots with spring's
mothering evergreen
well spring essence of
Eden's eternity
fresh winds of aware open air
and our common hands of earthen compassion
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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A blade of grass is a commonplace on Earth; it would be a miracle on Mars. Our descendants on Mars will know the value of a patch of green. And if a blade of grass is priceless, what is the value of a human being?
Carl Sagan in Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space
Submitted by Catalin Popescu
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When The Spring This Time Comes...
When the Spring this time comes...
I will be there to greet it with a smile.
Each blade of grass will hear my laughter.
And budding leaves will witness my impatience.
They will watch me pacing awaiting their births.
As if each tree...
Secretly belonged to me.
When the Spring this time comes...
A glow upon my face will shine.
I've discovered a life I can declare is mine!
I had taken too much time not enjoying it.
When the Spring this time comes...
Every bird that sings I will hear and listen.
Every flower blooming will get my attention.
Everyone I pass will receive my hello!
When the Spring this time comes...
I will be there to become part of it!
As it has been a part of me,
I did not see like this before.
When the Spring this time comes...
I hope to bore it with my presence.
It is going to know,
How much I want to keep in touch with it.
Until Summer teases.
To leave me with Fall and Winter to please.
When the Spring this time comes...
I am going to get well acquainted.
And appreciate I will this time,
The magnificence of that opportunity!
When the Spring this time comes...
I will not be inside ignoring it behind windows.
They are opened right now,
Just in case Spring wants to surprise...
With an early visit!
I want it to know it is anticipated!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Salute To Spring...Spring Time The Best Time
Spring in my step
Spring in the air
Spring!
Spring!
Lingering everywhere.
Spring fever to follow,
But I don't care,
Spring, for new journeys,
I'll meet you there!
Where?
By the garden gate,
You silly thing,
It's an invitation to frolic
So let's begin to sing.
It's Spring!
Written first day of Spring 2010
Dorothy Alves Holmes
A Poet Who Loves To Sing
poem by Dorothy Holmes
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Spring's First Day
The sun shines in the sky of blue and gray
It is a cool and rather breezy day
The magpie lark in the Townpark does sing
Pee wee pee wee on the first day of Spring.
The Goddess of Spring she flew in overnight
And no one see her in her silent flight
She is in the South for her annual three months stay
The warmer weather soon will come our way.
In her stick nest on the blackwood the magpie her eggs incubate
Her territory is guarded by her mate
He warns the other magpies in his flute like song
That this patch of ground to her and him belong.
Were I a poet to read or to recite
A song of welcome to the Spring I'd write
To the Goddess of Spring who spreads around her green
No greater beauty than her's I have seen.
The day is windy, sunny, bright and clear
And Spring is in the Southern Hemisphere
And the wattle trees laden in their blooms of gold
Stirring in the breezes lovely to behold.
poem by Francis Duggan
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