The Definition of Gardening

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1. The Definition Of Love My love is of a birth as rare As ’tis for object strange and high: It was begotten by Despair Upon Impossibility. Magnanimous Despair alone Could show me so divine a thing, Where feeble Hope could ne’er have flown But vainly flapped its tinsel wing. And yet I quickly might arrive Where my extended soul […]...
2. Gardening Pruning the rosebush The ache of the summer heat On my shoulders, The feel of the living stalk Between fingers, Petals – one, another, Then another Seek ground, life Not strong enough to hold on. Whether it’s blood Or petals, the gift Of time is a thread I stand on, Feet covered In the soft […]...
3. A Fine Day After all the rain, the sun Shines on hill and grassy mead; Fly into the garden, child, You are very glad indeed. For the days have been so dull, Oh, so special dark and drear, That you told me, “Mr. Sun Has forgotten we live here.” Dew upon the lily lawn, Dew upon the garden […]...
4. Community Garden I watch the man bend over his patch, A fat gunny sack at his feet. He combs the earth with his fingers, picks up pebbles around Tiny heads of sorrel. Clouds bruise in, clog the sky, the first fat drops pock-mark the dust. The man wipes his hands on his chest, opens the sack, pulls […]...
5. In a Southern Garden WHEN the tall bamboos are clicking to the restless little breeze, And bats begin their jerky skimming flight, And the creamy scented blossoms of the dark pittosporum trees, Grow sweeter with the coming of the night. And the harbour in the distance lies beneath a purple pall, And nearer, at the garden’s lowest fringe, Loud […]...
6. Poppies She loves blood-red poppies for a garden to walk in. In a loose white gown she walks and a new child tugs at cords in her body. Her head to the west at evening when the dew is creeping, A shudder of gladness runs in her bones and torsal fiber: She loves blood-red poppies for […]...
7. Lines Written In Recapitulation I could not bring this splendid world nor any trading beast In charge of it, to defer, no, not to give ear, not in the least Appearance, to my handsome prophecies, Which here I ponder and put by. I am left simpler, less encumbered, by the consciousness That I shall by no pebble in my […]...
8. I, or Someone Like Me In a wilderness, in some orchestral swing Through trees, with a wind playing all the high notes, And the prospect of a string bass inside the wood, I, or someone like me, had a kind of vision. As the person on the ground moved, bursting halos Topped first one tree, then another and another, Till […]...
9. Photography Extraordinary The Milk-and-Water School Alas! she would not hear my prayer! Yet it were rash to tear my hair; Disfigured, I should be less fair. She was unwise, I may say blind; Once she was lovingly inclined; Some circumstance has changed her mind. The Strong-Minded or Matter-of-Fact School Well! so my offer was no go! She […]...
10. The house where I was born (08) I open my eyes, yes, it’s the house where I was born, Exactly as it was and nothing more. The same small dining room whose window Gives onto a peach tree that never grows. A man and a woman are seated At this window, facing one another, They are talking, for once. And the child […]...
11. The trees in the garden rained flowers The trees in the garden rained flowers. Children ran there joyously. They gathered the flowers Each to himself. Now there were some Who gathered great heaps Having opportunity and skill Until, behold, only chance blossoms Remained for the feeble. Then a little spindling tutor Ran importantly to the father, crying: “Pray, come hither! See this […]...
12. Departure Oh, why are you shining so bright, big Sun, And why is the garden so gay? Do you know that my days of delight are done, Do you know I am going away? If you covered your face with a cloud, I ‘d dream You were sorry for me in my pain, And the heads […]...
13. Painted Head By dark severance the apparition head Smiles from the air a capital on no Column or a Platonic perhaps head On a canvas sky depending from nothing; Stirs up an old illusion of grandeur By tickling the instinct of heads to be Absolute and to try decapitation And to play truant from the body bush; […]...
14. Oh It is snowing and death bugs me As stubborn as insomnia. The fierce bubbles of chalk, The little white lesions Settle on the street outside. It is snowing and the ninety Year old woman who was combing Out her long white wraith hair Is gone, embalmed even now, Even tonight her arms are smooth Muskets […]...
15. The Garden Of Love I went to the Garden of Love. And saw what I never had seen: A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green. And the gates of this Chapel were shut, And Thou shalt not, writ over the door; So I turn’d to the Garden of Love, That so […]...
16. The Skyscraper Loves Night ONE by one lights of a skyscraper fling their checkering cross work on the velvet gown of night. I believe the skyscraper loves night as a woman and brings her playthings she asks for, brings her a velvet gown, And loves the white of her shoulders hidden under the dark feel of it all. The […]...
17. The Little Boy Lost Nought loves another as itself Nor venerates another so. Nor is it possible to Thought A greater than itself to know: And Father, how can I love you, Or any of my brothers more? I love you like the little bird That picks up crumbs around the door. The Priest sat by and heard the […]...
18. Love's Deity I long to talk with some old lover’s ghost, Who died before the God of Love was born: I cannot think that he, who then loved most, Sunk so low as to love one which did scorn. But since this god produced a destiny, And that vice-nature, Custom, lets it be, I must love her […]...
19. Lodged The rain to the wind said, ‘You push and I’ll pelt.’ They so smote the garden bed That the flowers actually knelt, And lay lodged though not dead. I know how the flowers felt....
20. The Despot 1 The garden mould was damp and chill, 2 Winter had had his brutal will 3 Since over all the year’s content 4 His devastating legions went. 5 Then Spring’s bright banners came: there woke 6 Millions of little growing folk 7 Who thrilled to know the winter done, 8 Gave thanks, and strove towards […]...
21. Double Red Daisies Double red daisies, they’re my flowers, Which nobody else may grow. In a big quarrelsome house like ours They try it sometimes-but no, I root them up because they’re my flowers, Which nobody else may grow. Claire has a tea-rose, but she didn’t plant it; Ben has an iris, but I don’t want it. Daisies, […]...
22. Flower Gardener Gas got me in the first World War, And all my mates at rest are laid. I felt I might survive them for I am a gardener by trade. My life is in the open air, And kindly is the work I do, Since flowers are my joy and care, And comfort too. My flowers […]...
23. 1954 Then dirt scared me, because of the dirt He had put on her face. And her training bra Scared me-the newspapers, morning and evening, Kept saying it, training bra, As if the cups of it had been calling The breasts up-he buried her in it, Perhaps he had never bothered to take it Off. They […]...
24. There is another sky There is another sky, Ever serene and fair, And there is another sunshine, Though it be darkness there; Never mind faded forests, Austin, Never mind silent fields – Here is a little forest, Whose leaf is ever green; Here is a brighter garden, Where not a frost has been; In its unfading flowers I hear […]...
25. The Gardener The gardener does not love to talk, He makes me keep the gravel walk; And when he puts his tools away, He locks the door and takes the key. Away behind the currant row Where no one else but cook may go, Far in the plots, I see him dig Old and serious, brown and […]...
26. The Little Park Planted The little park planted in memory of a boy Who fell in the war begins To resemble him As he was twenty eight years ago. Year by year they look more alike. His old parents come almost daily To sit on a bench And look at him. And every night the memory in the garden […]...
27. Autumn in the Garden When the frosty kiss of Autumn in the dark Makes its mark On the flowers, and the misty morning grieves Over fallen leaves; Then my olden garden, where the golden soil Through the toil Of a hundred years is mellow, rich, and deep, Whispers in its sleep. ‘Mid the crumpled beds of marigold and phlox, […]...
28. The Fall There was a man who found two leaves and came Indoors holding them out saying to his parents That he was a tree. To which they said then go into the yard and do Not grow in the living room as your roots may Ruin the carpet. He said I was fooling I am not […]...
29. There was a Child Once There was a child once. He came to play in my garden; He was quite pale and silent. Only when he smiled I knew everything about him, I knew what he had in his pockets, And I knew the feel of his hands in my hands And the most intimate tones of his voice. I […]...
30. To James Whitcomb Riley On his “Book of Joyous Children” Yours is a garden of old-fashioned flowers; Joyous children delight to play there; Weary men find rest in its bowers, Watching the lingering light of day there. Old-time tunes and young love’s laughter Ripple and run among the roses; Memory’s echoes, murmuring after, Fill the dusk when the long […]...
31. Politics ‘In our time the destiny of man prevents its meanings In political terms.’ Thomas Mann. How can I, that girl standing there, My attention fix On Roman or on Russian Or on Spanish politics? Yet here’s a travelled man that knows What he talks about, And there’s a politician That has read and thought, And […]...
32. The Little Garden A little garden on a bleak hillside Where deep the heavy, dazzling mountain snow Lies far into the spring. The sun’s pale glow Is scarcely able to melt patches wide About the single rose bush. All denied Of nature’s tender ministries. But no, For wonder-working faith has made it blow With flowers many hued and […]...
33. Night and Day When the golden day is done, Through the closing portal, Child and garden, Flower and sun, Vanish all things mortal. As the blinding shadows fall As the rays diminish, Under evening’s cloak they all Roll away and vanish. Garden darkened, daisy shut, Child in bed, they slumber Glow-worm in the hallway rut, Mice among the […]...
34. Two Lovers Two lovers by a moss-grown spring: They leaned soft cheeks together there, Mingled the dark and sunny hair, And heard the wooing thrushes sing. O budding time! O love’s blest prime! Two wedded from the portal stept: The bells made happy carolings, The air was soft as fanning wings, White petals on the pathway slept. […]...
35. Cities Can we believe by an effort Comfort our hearts: It is not waste all this, Not placed here in disgust, Street after street, Each patterned alike, No grace to lighten A single house of the hundred Crowded into one garden-space. Crowded can we believe, Not in utter disgust, In ironical play But the maker of […]...
36. Holy Day Los Angeles hums A little tune Trucks down The coast road For Monday Market Packed with small faces Blinking in the dark. My mother dreams By the open window. On the drainboard The gray roast humps Untouched, the oven Bangs its iron jaws, But it’s over. Before her on the table Set for so many […]...
37. The Mole Said he: “I’ll dive deep in the Past, And write a book of direful days When summer skies were overcast With smoke of humble hearths ablaze; When War was rampant in the land, And poor folk cowered in the night, While ruin gaped on every hand – Of ravishing and wrath I’ll write.” Ten years […]...
38. On why it is necessary to talk kindly to frogs i met a frog in my garden today Lurking under a stone – it said There used to be a pond here I know i said i had to dig it up Pity said the frog and looked at me As if i was the thickest mortal A garden without water it croaked Is worse […]...
39. In Harbor A young man, twenty eight years old, on a vessel from Tenos, Emes arrived at this Syrian harbor With the intention of learning the perfume trade. But during the voyage he was taken ill. And as soon As he disembarked, he died. His burial, the poorest, Took place here. A few hours before he died, […]...
40. The Wind, One Brilliant Day The wind, one brilliant day, called To my soul with an odor of jasmine. “In return for the odor of my jasmine, I’d like all the odor of your roses.” “I have no roses; all the flowers In my garden are dead.” “Well then, I’ll take the withered petals And the yellow leaves and the […]...