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Famous Short Garden Poems

Famous Short Garden Poems. Short Garden Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Garden short poems

Other Short Poem Pages

More great short poems below.

Garden | Short Famous Poems and Poets

by Matsuo Basho

Winter garden

 Winter garden,
the moon thinned to a thread,
 insects singing.

by Emily Dickinson

My Garden -- like the Beach

 My Garden -- like the Beach --
Denotes there be -- a Sea --
That's Summer --
Such as These -- the Pearls
She fetches -- such as Me

by Edward Lear

Q was a Quince that hung


was a Quince that hung
Upon a garden tree; Papa he brought it with him home,
And ate it with his tea.

by Mother Goose

Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary


Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
  How does your garden grow?
Silver bells and cockle-shells,
  And pretty maids all of a row.

by Omar Khayyam

The Bulbul to the garden winged his way,

The Bulbul to the garden winged his way,
Viewed lily cups, and roses smiling gay,
Cried in ecstatic notes, «O live your life,
You never will re-live this fleeting day.»

by Omar Khayyam

Irám indeed is gone

Irám indeed is gone with all its Rose,
And Jamshýd’s Sev’n-ring’d Cup where no one knows:
But still the Vine her ancient Ruby yields,
And still a Garden by the Water blows.

by Mother Goose

A Cherry

As I went through the garden gap,
Who should I meet but Dick Red-cap!
A stick in his hand, a stone in his throat,--
If you'll tell me this riddle, I'll give you a groat.

by Robert Frost


 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.

by Barry Tebb


 Two nights I have dreamed of you

Once as an adolescent, evanescent

Yet tangible still to the spirit’s touch,

Then as a ten year old in the shared 

Secret garden of our imagination.

by Edward Lear

There was an old Man in a Garden

There was an old Man in a Garden,
Who always begged every one's pardon;
When they asked him, "What for?" he replied, "You're a bore!
And I trust you'll go out of my garden.

by Emily Dickinson

Baffled for just a day or two

 Baffled for just a day or two --
Embarrassed -- not afraid --
Encounter in my garden
An unexpected Maid.
She beckons, and the woods start -- She nods, and all begin -- Surely, such a country I was never in!

by Emily Dickinson

New feet within my garden go

 New feet within my garden go --
New fingers stir the sod --
A Troubadour upon the Elm
Betrays the solitude.
New children play upon the green -- New Weary sleep below -- And still the pensive Spring returns -- And still the punctual snow!

by Adela Florence Cory Nicolson

The Garden of Kama:

   When I am dying, lean over me tenderly, softly,
     Stoop, as the yellow roses droop in the wind from the South.
   So I may, when I wake, if there be an Awakening,
     Keep, what lulled me to sleep, the touch of your lips on my mouth.

by Thomas Edward Brown

My Garden

 A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot!
Rose plot,
Fringed pool,
Ferned grot--
The veriest school
Of peace; and yet the fool
Contends that God is not--
Not God! in gardens! when the eve is cool?
Nay, but I have a sign;
'Tis very sure God walks in mine.

by William Butler Yeats



Locke sank into a swoon;
The Garden died;
God took the spinning-jenny
Out of his side.
II Where got I that truth? Out of a medium's mouth.
Out of nothing it came, Out of the forest loam, Out of dark night where lay The crowns of Nineveh.

by Omar Khayyam

Dragged through the rapid course of time, which accords

Dragged through the rapid course of time, which accords
its favors only to the least worthy, my life is passed
in a gulf of grief and sorrow. In this garden of being,
my heart is hard as is the green bud of a rose; and like
a tulip, it is dipped in blood.

by Omar Khayyam

A nightingale, inebriate (with love of the rose), within

A nightingale, inebriate [with love of the rose], within
a garden saw the roses laughing with a cup of wine. To
me he came and whispered in my ear, in tones appropriate
to the circumstance: Be on thy guard, my friend; one
cannot hold the life that slips away.

by Robert Herrick


 When I consider, dearest, thou dost stay
But here awhile, to languish and decay;
Like to these garden glories, which here be
The flowery-sweet resemblances of thee:
With grief of heart, methinks, I thus do cry,
Would thou hadst ne'er been born, or might'st not die!

by William Carlos (WCW) Williams

Approach Of Winter

 The half-stripped trees 
struck by a wind together, 
bending all, 
the leaves flutter drily 
and refuse to let go 
or driven like hail 
stream bitterly out to one side 
and fall 
where the salvias, hard carmine—
like no leaf that ever was— 
edge the bare garden.

by Russell Edson

The Closet

 Here I am with my mother, hanging under the molt 
of years, in a garden of umbrellas and rubber boots, 
together always in the vague perfume of her coat.
See how the fedoras along the shelf are the several skulls of my father, in this catacomb of my family.

by Emily Dickinson

When I count the seeds

 When I count the seeds
That are sown beneath,
To bloom so, bye and bye --

When I con the people
Lain so low,
To be received as high --

When I believe the garden
Mortal shall not see --
Pick by faith its blossom
And avoid its Bee,
I can spare this summer, unreluctantly.

by Robert Frost


 Inscription for a Garden Wall

Winds blow the open grassy places bleak;
But where this old wall burns a sunny cheek,
They eddy over it too toppling weak
To blow the earth or anything self-clear;
Moisture and color and odor thicken here.
The hours of daylight gather atmosphere.

by Adam Lindsay Gordon


 THE last, late guest 
To the gate we followed; 
Goodbye -- and the rest 
The night-wind swallowed.
House, garden, street, Lay tenfold gloomy, Where accents sweet Had made music to me.
It was but a feast With the dark coming on; She was but a guest -- And now, she is gone.

by Katherine Mansfield

Out in the Garden

 Out in the garden,
Out in the windy, swinging dark,
Under the trees and over the flower-beds,
Over the grass and under the hedge border,
Someone is sweeping, sweeping,
Some old gardener.
Out in the windy, swinging dark, Someone is secretly putting in order, Someone is creeping, creeping.

by Omar Khayyam

O my heart! drink of wine, drink of it in a garden

O my heart! drink of wine, drink of it in a garden
and enjoy the presence of thy friend [the Divinity]; renounce
hypocrisy and show. Is it the doctrine of Ahmed
you follow? In that case, draw from the fountain-head
a cup of wine into the bowl which Ali, in his round of
cupbearing, shall serve.