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Gardening Poems

Nothing against William Wordsworth, but there are more gardening poems than his. 

When it comes to gardening poems, there’s no shortage, but I’ve always loved Wordsworth’s “I wandered lonely as a cloud.” His description of a field of daffodils is simply spectacular.

Continuous as the stars that shine
   And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
   Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

It’s the captured moments like this that make gardening poems so lovely. Those mundane moments we all skim over on our journeys, a poet collects and gives to us as a gift. In fact, it’s not at all unusual for a poet and a gardener to be one in the same.

Take, for example, Rebecca Bowes’ ode to the Summer Garden

” Sweet peas twine green fingers through

friendly fences,

beckoning each passer-by

with a come-hither scent.”

Have you ever heard such a lovely depiction of peas? 

Other gardening poems help us connect with the small miracles that can happen outside of the garden. Linda Delmont’s Prize Fighter is one such poem. The emotions are right there, barely contained. Sadness, regret, but also hope. And if there’s one thing we can all agree on, it’s that a garden, ultimately, is about hope.

When you can’t get outside to enjoy the colors, sounds, and smells of the garden, you have the next best thing with gardening poems. Let the finely crafted words of these writers bring the garden to you, along with heartwarming scenes and a reminder to notice and appreciate the little moments that we honor in our own gardens, wherever they may be.

Get more gardening poems below

Feel free to stay a while and enjoy all the gardening poems we have to share below. And be sure to check out our Gardening Poems Collection while you’re here, which features a hand-picked selection of our favorites from this category.

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In the Garden

  The leaves boast every shade of green, the blossoms wag chromatic tongues. Some impish dyer dyed them thus, then hung the petals out to dry. The ivy, clamped by clinging roots, that clambers up a  

A Consequence of the Dandelion

You’ve gone now, but: each and every time one of our grandchildren puffs upon another ripe, fur-fuzzy dandelion, scattering those myriad faeries to twist and romp and frolic in the silent breeze, I feel a slight slight chill. About the Author: Rob Loughran  

A Gardening Poem About Thyme

Many old European homes had keeps, food-storage rooms located off the kitchen. The meadow keep was for drying the family's culinary and medicinal herbs and flowers. Author and herbalist Elizabeth C.  

 

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