Oh that I had Wings

The bird let loose in Eastern skies,
Returning fondly home,
Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies
Where idle warblers roam;
But high she shoots through air and light,
Above all low delay,
Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,
Nor shadow dims her way.
~Charles lamb (1775-1834)

And Spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;
And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast
rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.
~Percy Bysshe Shelley, "The Sensitive Plant"

"The Sensitive Plant"
A sensitive plant in a garden grew,
And the young winds fed it with silver dew,
And it opened its fan-like leaves to the light,
and closed them beneath the kisses of night.
~Percy Bysshe Shelley, "The Sensitive Plant," 1820

Joyce Kilmer. 1886–1918

I think that I shall never see   
A poem lovely as a tree.   
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest   
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;   
A tree that looks at God all day,           
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;   
A tree that may in summer wear   
A nest of robins in her hair;   
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;   
Who intimately lives with rain.     
Poems are made by fools like me,   
But only God can make a tree.

The kiss of the sun
for pardon
The song of the birds
for mirth
One is nearer God's heart in a garden
than anywhere else
on Earth
~Dorothy Frances Gurney

Oh, spring came to my garden
And caught it unaware
Wearing just a few old leaves
And a dejected air.

But when spring left my garden,
Its work so deftly done,
Many, many Daffodils
Were dancing in the sun.
-Velma D. Bates

My Choice
In all my garden's length and breadth
I like these common things
A sturdy, low-branched apple tree 
Where, daily, a finch sings;
The clematis that trims: the fence
With garlands of white lace;
The maidenhair and Ostrich ferns
That fill each shady; space;
The fragrance of quaint mignonette
When touched with evening dew
And best of all I like grass pinks
Like those my mother grew.
-Velma D. Bates
"O were my Love yon lilac fair,
wi' purple blossoms to the spring,
and I a bird to shelter there,
when wearied on my little wing;
how I wad mourn when it was torn
by autumn wild and winter rude!
But I wad sing on wanton wing
when youthfu' May its bloom renew'd."

~Robert Burns~

"The wall is silence, the grass is sleep,
Tall trees of peace their vigil keep,
And the Fairy of Dreams with moth-wings furled
Plays soft on her flute to the drowsy world."
- Ida Rentoul Outhwaite
If there comes a little thaw,
Still the air is chill and raw,
Here and there a patch of snow,
Dirtier than the ground below,
Dribbles down a marshy flood;
Ankle-deep you stick in mud
In the meadows while you sing,
"This is Spring."

-Christopher Pearce Cranch

Gardening is about enjoying the smell of things growing in the soil,
 getting dirty without feeling guilty, and generally taking the time to
soak up a little peace and serenity. ~Lindley Karstens

May In Bloom
May is so beautiful
Orchards are fair,
Branches of fruit trees
Make gardens of air.
Flowers of fragrance
Bloom in the light,
Fall like the snowflakes
Showing white.
Orchards of heaven
Grow with a grace,
And like a blessing
Perfume the place.
Each tree in blossom,
Each lovely spray,
In this month of Our Lady,
Bring glory to May.
~Helen Maning

Grandma's Garden

Author: Erin Kilmer
I remember Grandma's garden
The beauty and the grace
Of all the lovely flowers
In that dear, sweet place
I remember Grandma's smile
As she planted, pruned, and tilled
Laboring with love and laughter
As this world with joy she filled
I remember Grandma's patience
When we ran amid the flowers
With her beauty all around us
We would spend those precious hours
I remember Grandma's garden
And I'm happy in the knowing
That when she knelt there in the soil
It wasn't just flowers she was growing.

A Honeysuckle Bower

Author: Se Johnson
A honeysuckle bower, sweet,
Twines its fragrance ‘round my feet
And with the lily draws me toward
A gated-garden’s secret world.

(Step Into My Garden)

Step into my garden
Step in and you'll see
A measure of peace
And tranquility.

It's the scent of the blossoms
The buzz of the bees
The sweet song of birds
As they sing in the trees.

The sweet scent of roses
Their petals so new
As they glisten and sparkle
With the fresh morning dew.

Run your toes through the grass
Beneath a canopy of trees
Hear the rustle of leaves
As they blow in the breeze.

Let the beauty of springtime
Fill your soul with great peace
Take it with you and share it
With each one you meet.

 Author: Unknown 

1 comment:

Diane Dean White said...

What a lovely blog site!
You have some beautiful poems and photos of flowers...I have a grandmother who was a green thumb lady and so is Mom....but I'm a brown thumb, and seems ivy is all I can keep alive...these are wonderful. I'll share your button on my blog. God Bless, Elizabeth!