"Autobiographies of great nations are written in three manuscripts – a book of deeds, a book of words, and a book of art.
Of the three, I would choose the latter as truest testimony." - Sir Kenneth Smith, Great Civilisations

"I must write each day without fail, not so much for the success of the work, as in order not to get out of my routine." - Leo Tolstoy

I have never believed that one should wait until one is inspired because I think the pleasures of not writing are so
great that if you ever start indulging them you will never write again. - John Updike

"The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour
is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it." - J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

Friday, September 16, 2011

Garden Poems


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

At Dawn

I slipped into the garden
Almost before 'twas light,
As the lazy sun arose
I glimpsed a charming sight...
Red Poppy flung her cap aside,
Shook out her silken skirt;
The way she danced with a young breeze
Told me she was a flirt!

- Mary C. Shaw

Wild Orchid

"The flower that walks", the Indian; said,
And walking spreads its crown-like roots
Through forest glades and upland dales.
Moccasin flower or Lady's Slipper,
It matters not the name
Or if it be fair white or rose or tiny yellow kind
Tis ever rare and wondrous there
This woodland beauty Bequeathed us from another age.
A Heritage to guard with care
And cherish for posterity
That other eyes in future years
Mav see this Orchid walk the trails
As did our native Indian braves
And shy eyed maidens of the tribe.

- Helen M. Fleet


I've had the garden tidied up,
As she would have me do.
This little pal who couldn't stay
To see the season through.
The flowers were her dearest friends,
The garden was her own,
I've watched her work, but never knew
The things that she had grown.
Her, catalogues keep coming, and
Her garden magazine;
I run across the queerest names,
And study what they mean,
I read them all, from end to end,
And when the spring is here,
I'll have a garden just like hers,
As though my wife were near.

- Albert H. Pedrick

Day's End

The twilight comes to cool the. air,
The shadows lengthen on the sod,
Soft breezes blow the garden through,
The leaves and blossoms sway and nod.

On garden path, in sheltering hedge,
In treetops dark and cloudless sky,
The evening birds awake to life,
To stir; to sing and upward fly.

And flowers, warm with summer heat,
Expand to greet the softened light
And shed, to show their gratitude,
A fragrance in the summer night.

Now all is peace. From meadows near
A cooling mist blows o'er the wall
And strangely lonesome in the night
There comes the thrush's silvery call.

- Edwin W. Proctor

Winged Jewel
(The Huming, Bird)

Feathered fire of emerald .
Aflashing through the air,
Its throat a glowing jewel,
A ruby solitaire.

Intrepid wings are whirring
In airy, fairy flight,
Careening through the sunshine,
A scintillating sprite.
Then pendant o'er flower
It dips its dainty hill
And gathers honeyed nectar
From flowery cup and frill.
Now darting, swiftly turning,
It seeks the trumpet vine,
A little tropic jewel
Aflame with nectared wine.

- Cora L. Cone

Canterbury Bells

Long years ago devoted folk
Sought Canterbury's well-known shrine,
That in this church they might invoke
Saint Thomas for a heavenly sign.
And as they trod each rang a bell
For symbol of their pilgrim aim,
While all along the way the spell
Of nodding blossoms caused acclaim.
Today these flowers still are true
To the old title which they bear.
Swinging their bells, pink, white or blue,
With unheard pealings through the air.

- Edith M. Larrabee

The White Trillium

Trillium graceful, Trillium white,
Star of the woodland, Lady of light
Lo, how she prou!ily
Stands in the glade,
Tri-sceptred sovereign,
Queen of the shade.
Stately she rises,
Slender-stemmed, tall,
Gracious response to Spring's early call,
Lifting three leaf-arms
High from the sod,
Gazing with pure face lip at her god.

- Milena Matcska

Winter Embroidery

The snow upon the hillsides
Makes them like great flour sacks
On which the birds and animals
Have cross-stitched with their tracks.

- Thelma Ireland

Angels in My Garden
Among my gift begonias
Is one called "
So true to form I fancy
I hear the seraphs sing.
For surely higher beings
Inspired the, friendly hearts
Of my new next-door neighbors
To give me these "new starts".

O Angels, hover always
About this garden spot!
Help- me to share life's blossoms
With those who have them not!
And from your shining wing-tips
Shake fragrance for the hearts
Of beauty-hungry thousands
Today, who need new starts!
- Irene Stanley