Nothing in literature, I am sure, so condenses into a few words that gorgeous atom of life and fire of which she (Emily Dickinson) here attempts the description.....
The Humming-Bird
A route of evanescence
With a revolving wheel;
A resonance of emerald;
A rush of cochineal.
And every blossom on the bush
Adjusts its tumbled head;
The mail from Tunis, probably,
An easy moring's ride.
Emily Dickinson
II
RECIPROCITY
I do not think that skies and meadows are
Moral, or that the fixture of a star
Comes of a quiet spirit, or that trees
Have wisdom in their windless silences.
Yet these are things invested in my mood
With constancy, and peace, and fortitude;
That in my troubled season I can cry
Upon the wide composure of the sky,
And envy fields, and wish that I might be
As little daunted as a star or tree.
John Drinkwater
III
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 starry-eyed.
Here sleeps the sun long, idle summer hours;
Here butterflies and bees fare far to rove
Amid the crumpled leaves of poppy flowers;
Here four o'clocks, to the passionate night above
Fling whiffs of perfume, like pale incense showers.
A little garden, loved with a great love!
Amy Lowell
IV
���
but a garden
an orchard of trees and herbs, full of pleasure
and nothing there but delights.
William Lawson
V
"No occupation is so delightful to me as
the culture of the earth, and no culture
comparable to that of the garden. Though
I am an old man, I am a young gardner."
Thomas Jefferson
VI
"And tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes."
William Wordsworth
VII
"There is always room for beauty:
memory
A myriad lovely blooms may enclose,
But, what soe'r has been, there still must be
Room for another rose."
Florence Earl Coates
VIII
"No, the heart that has truly lov'd never forgets,
But as truly loves on the close;
As the sunflower turns on her god, when he sees,
the same look which she turn'd on him when he rose."
Thomas Moore
IX
Has the sight of spring
impressed you enough
that you can describe the colours,
even after nightfall?
Can you recall, at will,
the aroma of the earth?
Barren for so long, now, at last,
shouting it's wealth
with heady fragrances.
The musky rich loam of the deep woods
following spring rains
is so intoxicating to me,
I must remember not to hold
my breath.
April has coloured the hills
in the softest of greens.
Trilliums abound in the woodland,
May Apples and Jack-in-the-pulpits,
delights discovered in childhood,
increase my pleasure yearly.
Bluets, a wildflower so delicate
you fear for their safety
compliment the sweet violets.
Carpets of wildflowers,
surrounded by moss
touch chords of delight
in my winter weary heart.
The redbuds ablaze with their flowers
so brilliant, so vibrant, so new.
The dogwoods so splendid that
they teach me humility.
Daily, the progression of greenery
brings new marvels,
as I dawdle about;
in love with the tiny buds
bursting now to full bloom.
Enthralled by the greenery
as it creeps ever nearer these rooms.
After the starkness of winter
it is so startling
to walk into a window filled room,
become awed by the beauty encroaching.
The wide expansive views of winter,
begin to disappear.
The stark view of the mountains,
and the accordian pleats of the foothills
dull brown for so long now,
with barren limbs & felled trees,
becoming again an enchanted forest.
The wildland creatures cavort and chatter,
birds sing gaily welcoming the warmth
and proclaiming their territory, as
they whistle for mates.
The spring below us is bubbling quite madly,
you can hear it's triumphant sound as it
washes glady down small waterfalls,
racing ultimately to the sea.
The breezy ferns and delicate flowers
have come alert at its passing
and cling tenaciously to it's banks.
It is a great reassurance
a yearly phenomena
heightening our senses
as it unfold it's poignant drama.
AH, spring.....you can never arrive
too early or linger too long to suit me.
jus ;-)
X
THE SLIGHTEST MOVEMENT
Sunlight browning slices of apples
The porch paint peeling
Maple syrup oozing from a healthy tree
Branches bending
under the weight of squirrels
Shadows breaking the fall of leaves.
An owl's gaze following
a lesser bird
The dripping consonants of rain
The sex of two flowers creating
The tight blue sheet of the sky
wrinkling after sleep
The slightest movement of my soul
coming to rest at the edge of my body.
Darkness pivoting behind the moon
The fragrance of perennials
seeping through the door
Spring grass with its eager roots--
I too am considering resurrection.
The slightest movement in my mind
preserves me.
David Bissonette
XI
AZURE AND GOLD
April had covered the hills
With flickering yellows and reds,
The sparkle and coolness of snow
Was blown from the mountain beds.
Across a deep-sunken stream
The pink of blossoming trees,
And from windless appleblooms
The humming of many bees.
The air was of rose and gold
Arabesqued with the song of birds
Who, swinging unseen under leaves,
Made music more eager than words.
Of a sudden, aslant the road,
A brightness to dazzle and stun,
A glint of the bluest blue,
A flash from a sapphire sun.
Blue-birds so blue, 'twas a dream,
An impossible, unconceived hue,
The high sky of summer dropped down
Some rapturous ocean to woo.
Such a colour, such infinite light!
The heart of a fabulous gem,
Many-faceted, brilliant and rare.
Centre Stone of the earth's diadem!
. . . . . . . .
Centre Stone of the Crown of the World,
"Sincerity" graved on your youth!
And your eyes hold the blue-bird flash,
The sapphire shaft, which is truth.
Amy Lowell
XII
"Some men there are who find in nature all
Their inspiration, hers the sympathy
Which spurs them on to any great endeavor,
To them the fields and woods are closest friends,
And they hold dear communion with the hills;
The voice of waters soothes them with its fall,
And the great winds bring healing in their sound.
To them a city is a prison house"
Amy Lowell (1874-1925)
Garden Quotes:
Anybody who wants to rule the world should try to rule a garden first.
One of my favorites was on a little sign I saw in a garden: "I don't remember planting that!"
A book is like a garden carried in a pocket. -Chinese proverb
"God made rainy days, so gardeners could get the housework done"
A hand that's dirty with honest labor is fit to shake with any neighbor.
"Early to bed, early to rise;
Work like h*ll and fertilize."
Emily Whaley
"I'd rather have roses on my table, than diamonds on my neck."
--Emma Goldman
And the day came when the risk (it took) to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
--Anais Nin
On the subject of God and gardens .... a priest stops to watch a gardener tending her garden and says, "what a beautiful job you and God are making of that garden" and the gardener replies, "yes, but you should have seen the mess it was when God had it on his own!"
" I say, if your knees aren't green by the end of the day, you ought to seriously re-examine your life."
Calvin & Hobbs
I have a rock garden. Last week three of them died.
For all his sophistication, man owes his very existence to four inches of top soil and the fact that it rains.
"When we tug at a single thing in nature we find it attached to the rest of the world" (John Muir)
There is peace with a garden, a peace so deep and calm.
That when the heart is troubled, It�s like a soothing balm.
There�s life within a garden, A life that still goes on.
Filling the empty places, when older plants have gone.
There�s glory in the garden, at every time of year,
Spring, summer, autumn, winter, it fills the heart with cheer.
So everyone tend your garden, its beauty to increase.
For in it you will find solace, and in it you will find peace.
There are no green thumbs or black thumbs. There are only gardeners and non-gardeners. Gardeners are the ones who ruin after ruin get on with the high defiance of nature herself, creating, in the very face of her chaos and tornado, the bower of roses and the pride of irises. It sounds very well to garden a "natural way." You may see the natural way in any desert, any swamp, any leech-filed laurel hell. Defiance, on the other hand, is what makes gardeners.
"the best thing for roses is the shadow of the gardener".
"Won't you come into my garden?
I would like my roses to see you."
-- Richard Sheridan
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