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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

A fool I was to sleep at noon,
  And wake when night is chilly
Beneath the comfortless cold moon;
A fool to pluck my rose too soon,
  A fool to snap my lily.

My garden-plot I have not kept;
  Faded and all-forsaken,
I weep as I have never wept:
Oh it was summer when I slept,
  It's winter now I waken.

Talk what you please of future spring
  And sun-warm'd sweet to-morrow:—
Stripp'd bare of hope and everything,
No more to laugh, no more to sing,
  I sit alone with sorrow.

Days

by Ralph Waldo Emerson

DAUGHTERS of Time the hypocritic Days  
Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes  
And marching single in an endless file  
Bring diadems and fagots in their hands. 
To each they offer gifts after his will 5 
Bread kingdoms stars and sky that holds them all. 
I in my pleach¨¨d garden watched the pomp  
Forgot my morning wishes hastily 
Took a few herbs and apples and the Day 
Turned and departed silent. I too late 10 
Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn.

Under the Harvest Moon

by Carl Sandburg

 Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.

 Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.

Le Jardin

by Oscar Wilde

 The lily's withered chalice falls
Around its rod of dusty gold,
And from the beech-trees on the wold
The last wood-pigeon coos and calls.

The gaudy leonine sunflower
Hangs black and barren on its stalk,
And down the windy garden walk
The dead leaves scatter, - hour by hour.

Pale privet-petals white as milk
Are blown into a snowy mass:
The roses lie upon the grass
Like little shreds of crimson silk.

Knoxville Tennessee

by Nikki Giovanni

 I always like summer
Best
you can eat fresh corn
From daddy's garden
And okra
And greens
And cabbage
And lots of
Barbeque
And buttermilk
And homemade ice-cream
At the church picnic
And listen to
Gospel music
Outside
At the church
Homecoming
And go to the mountains with
Your grandmother
And go barefooted
And be warm
All the time
Not only when you go to bed
And sleep

Atmosphere

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.

An Autumnal Simile

by Victor Hugo

 ("Les feuilles qui gisaient.") 


 The leaves that in the lonely walks were spread, 
 Starting from off the ground beneath the tread, 
 Coursed o'er the garden-plain; 
 Thus, sometimes, 'mid the soul's deep sorrowings, 
 Our soul a moment mounts on wounded wings, 
 Then, swiftly, falls again.

Fireflies in the Garden

by Robert Frost

 Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,
And here on earth come emulating flies,
That though they never equal stars in size,
(And they were never really stars at heart)
Achieve at times a very star-like start.
Only, of course, they can't sustain the part.

Lost Time

by Rabindranath Tagore

 On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time. 
But it is never lost, my lord. 
Thou hast taken every moment of my life in thine own hands. 

Hidden in the heart of things thou art nourishing seeds into sprouts, 
buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into fruitfulness. 

I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed 
and imagined all work had ceased. 
In the morning I woke up 
and found my garden full with wonders of flowers.

The Wind One Brilliant Day

by Antonio Machado

 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 waters of the fountain."

the wind left. And I wept. And I said to myself:
"What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?"


Translated by Robert Bly

Winter garden

by Matsuo Basho

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

Forgotten Home

by Dejan Stojanovic

My feelings are too loud for words 
And too shy for the world. 
Read the light and have a dream 
In your hidden garden. 
No need for words. 

The words are but shadows 
Of stories never said, 
Shining from distant kingdoms, 
Reminding you of a forgotten home. 

Light rays will tell you the story. 
There is another alphabet 
Whispering from every leaf, 
Singing from every river, 
Shimmering from every sky.

There was an old Man in a Garden

by Edward Lear

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."

New feet within my garden go

by Emily Dickinson

 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!

To My Wife - With A Copy Of My Poems

by Oscar Wilde

 I can write no stately proem
As a prelude to my lay;
From a poet to a poem
I would dare to say.

For if of these fallen petals
One to you seem fair,
Love will waft it till it settles
On your hair.

And when wind and winter harden
All the loveless land,
It will whisper of the garden,
You will understand.

My Garden -- like the Beach

by Emily Dickinson

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

Go Seek Her Out

by James Joyce

 Go seek her out all courteously, 
And say I come, 
Wind of spices whose song is ever 
Epithalamium. 
O, hurry over the dark lands 
And run upon the sea 
For seas and lands shall not divide us 
My love and me. 

Now, wind, of your good courtesy 
I pray you go, 
And come into her little garden 
And sing at her window; 
Singing: The bridal wind is blowing 
For Love is at his noon; 
And soon will your true love be with you, 
Soon, O soon.

Lovers Gifts II: Come to My Garden Walk

by Rabindranath Tagore

 Come to my garden walk, my love. Pass by the fervid flowers that
press themselves on your sight. Pass them by, stopping at some
chance joy, which like a sudden wonder of sunset illumines, yet
elude.
For lover's gift is shy, it never tells its name, it flits
across the shade, spreading a shiver of joy along the dust.
Overtake it or miss it for ever. But a gift that can be
grasped is merely a frail flower, or a lamp with flame that will
flicker.

Looking Down in a Spring-rain

by Wang Wei

 Round a turn of the Qin Fortress winds the Wei River, 
And Yellow Mountain foot-hills enclose the Court of China; 
Past the South Gate willows comes the Car of Many Bells 
On the upper Palace-Garden Road-a solid length of blossom; 
A Forbidden City roof holds two phoenixes in cloud; 
The foliage of spring shelters multitudes from rain; 
And now, when the heavens are propitious for action, 
Here is our Emperor ready-no wasteful wanderer.

For Richmonds Garden Wall

by Robert Louis Stevenson

 WHEN Thomas set this tablet here,
Time laughed at the vain chanticleer;
And ere the moss had dimmed the stone,
Time had defaced that garrison.
Now I in turn keep watch and ward
In my red house, in my walled yard
Of sunflowers, sitting here at ease
With friends and my bright canvases.
But hark, and you may hear quite plain
Time's chuckled laughter in the lane.

The Swing

by Robert Louis Stevenson

 How do you like to go up in a swing, 
Up in the air so blue? 
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing 
Ever a child can do! 

Up in the air and over the wall, 
Till I can see so wide, 
River and trees and cattle and all 
Over the countryside-- 

Till I look down on the garden green, 
Down on the roof so brown-- 
Up in the air I go flying again, 
Up in the air and down!

Gone

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.

Daybreak In A Garden

by Siegfried Sassoon

 I heard the farm cocks crowing, loud, and faint, and thin,
When hooded night was going and one clear planet winked:
I heard shrill notes begin down the spired wood distinct,
When cloudy shoals were chinked and gilt with fires of day.
White-misted was the weald; the lawns were silver-grey;
The lark his lonely field for heaven had forsaken;
And the wind upon its way whispered the boughs of may,
And touched the nodding peony-flowers to bid them waken.

Lenten Flowers

by Kathleen Raine

 Primrose, anemone, bluebell, moss
Grow in the Kingdom of the Cross

And the ash-tree's purple bud
Dresses the spear that sheds his blood.

With the thorns that pierce his brow
Soft encircling petals grow

For in each flower the secret lies
Of the tree that crucifies.

Garden by the water clear
All must die who enter here!

The Garden Of Love

by William Blake

 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 many sweet flowers bore,

And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where flowers should be:
And priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars, my joys & desires.