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Outside in my dressing gown

yorkshireroseyorkshirerose North YorkshirePosts: 574
Does anyone have a favourite poem, or story which relates to their gardening activity?
Mine is by Liz Cowley;-

I'm outside in my dressing gown-
I often am at half past seven,
when plants are waking up.
To me, that is the time of heaven.

The builders on the roof next door
were once surprised to see me there,
amazed to watch me pottering
in slippers and with unbrushed hair.

Thank God they've learned to look away,
accepting there's a nut next door
who's up and out and not yet dressed-
they don't look startled anymore.

They do their own thing, I do mine-
they glance at me, then look away.
I'm glad they have accepted it-
the way I like to start my day.



A gardener's work is never at an end  - (John Evelyn 1620-1706)
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  • pansyfacepansyface PEAK DISTRICT DerbyshirePosts: 20,154
    Not gardening exactly, but this one always brings a bit of a lump to my throat.

    Spring and Fall by Gerard Manley Hopkins.

    To a Young Child


    Márgarét, áre you gríeving
    Over Goldengrove unleaving?
    Leáves like the things of man, you
    With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
    Ah! ás the heart grows older
    It will come to such sights colder
    By and by, nor spare a sigh
    Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
    And yet you wíll weep and know why.
    Now no matter, child, the name:
    Sórrow’s spríngs áre the same.
    Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
    What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
    It ís the blight man was born for,
    It is Margaret you mourn for.

    Apophthegm -  a big word for a small thought.
  • AnniDAnniD Posts: 9,651
    This is my favourite  :) by Wendy Cope  ( gardening is mentioned, so l hope it counts).

    Being Boring
    'May you live in interesting times.' Chinese curse

    If you ask me 'What's new?', I have nothing to say
    Except that the garden is growing.
    I had a slight cold but it's better today.
    I'm content with the way things are going.
    Yes, he is the same as he usually is,
    Still eating and sleeping and snoring.
    I get on with my work. He gets on with his.
    I know this is all very boring.

    There was drama enough in my turbulent past:
    Tears and passion - I've used up a tankful.
    No news is good news, and long may it last.
    If nothing much happens, I'm thankful.
    A happier cabbage you never did see,
    My vegetable spirits are soaring.
    If you're after excitement, steer well clear of me.
    I want to go on being boring.

    I don't go to parties. Well, what are they for,
    If you don't need to find a new lover?
    You drink and you listen and drink a bit more
    And you take the next day to recover.
    Someone to stay home with was all my desire
    And, now that I've found a safe mooring,
    I've just one ambition in life: I aspire
    To go on and on being boring.

  • BrexiteerBrexiteer Birmingham Posts: 955
    pansyface said:
    Not gardening exactly, but this one always brings a bit of a lump to my throat.

    Spring and Fall by Gerard Manley Hopkins.

    To a Young Child


    Márgarét, áre you gríeving
    Over Goldengrove unleaving?
    Leáves like the things of man, you
    With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
    Ah! ás the heart grows older
    It will come to such sights colder
    By and by, nor spare a sigh
    Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
    And yet you wíll weep and know why.
    Now no matter, child, the name:
    Sórrow’s spríngs áre the same.
    Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
    What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
    It ís the blight man was born for,
    It is Margaret you mourn for.

    That is beautiful 💕💕💕
  • micearguersmicearguers CambridgePosts: 594
    This is one is perhaps not my favourite, but I'm very fond of it; Leisure by W.H. Davies.
    What is this life if, full of care,
    We have no time to stand and stare.
    No time to stand beneath the boughs
    And stare as long as sheep or cows.
    No time to see, when woods we pass,
    Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
    No time to see, in broad daylight,
    Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
    No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
    And watch her feet, how they can dance.
    No time to wait till her mouth can
    Enrich that smile her eyes began.
    A poor life this if, full of care,
    We have no time to stand and stare.

  • yorkshireroseyorkshirerose North YorkshirePosts: 574
    @micearguers - That was my Mum's favourite too. I love it.
    A gardener's work is never at an end  - (John Evelyn 1620-1706)
  • micearguersmicearguers CambridgePosts: 594
    @yorkshirerose lovely thread and a great poem you started it off with. I'm very fond of 'Leisure' but because it is phrased as a negative it leaves me yearning for something more. Still, it is evocative, and expresses such positive sentiments too.

    I have collected a few poems related to gardening in my native language, Dutch. I often think of them!
  • PosyPosy Isle of Wight.Posts: 3,224
    I haven't seen that Wendy Cope before. It's me! I shall use it as an explanation to my family, I think.
  • AnniDAnniD Posts: 9,651
    @Posy, the first time l read it, l thought " She must know me !".  :)
  • hogweedhogweed Central ScotlandPosts: 4,037
    edited October 2019
    I love the Rudyard Kipling poem which goes:

    They shut the road through the woods
    Seventy years ago.
    Weather and rain have undone it again,
    And now you would never know
    There was once a road through the woods
    Before they planted the trees.
    It is underneath the coppice and heath
    And the thin anemones.
    Only the keeper sees
    That, where the ring-dove broods,
    And the badgers roll at ease,
    There was once a road through the woods.

    Yet, if you enter the woods
    Of a summer evening late,
    When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools
    Where the otter whistles his mate,
    (They fear not men in the woods,
    Because they see so few.)
    You will hear the beat of a horse's feet,
    And the swish of a skirt in the dew,
    Steadily cantering through
    The misty solitudes,
    As though they perfectly knew
    The old lost road through the woods ...
    But there is no road through the woods.



    'Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement' - Helen Keller
  • Dog Gardening Poem

     I love to do the gardening,
    I roll on the acanthus,
    Do flops across the echinops,
    And trash the agapanthus.

    Pam Ayres
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