My Garden

 The world is sadly sick, they say,
And plagued by woe and pain.
But look! How looms my garden gay, With blooms in golden reign! With lyric music in the air, Of joy fulfilled in song, I can't believe that anywhere Is hate and harm and wrong.
A paradise my garden is, And there my day is spent; A steep myself in sunny bliss, Incredibly content.
Feeling that I am truly part Of peace so rapt and still, There's not a care within my heart .
How can the world be ill? Aye, though the land be sick they say, And named unto pain, My garden never was so gay, So innocent, so sane.
My roses mock at misery, My thrushes vie in song .
When only beauty I can see, How can the world be wrong?

Poem by
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - My GardenEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Poems are below...

Top Robert William Service Poems

Analysis and Comments on My Garden

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem My Garden here.