Always remember the beauty of the garden, for there is peace.
- Author Unknown
<big>"Gardening is the art that uses flowers and plants as paint, and the soil and sky as canvas."
</big>- Elizabeth Murray
Can you find another market like this? Where, with your one rose, you can buy hundreds of rose gardens?
~Rumi
Who are you, reader, reading my poems an hundred years hence?
I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the spring, one single streak of gold from yonder clouds.
Open your doors and look abroad.
From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories of the vanished flowers of an hundred years before.
In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang one spring morning, sending its glad voice across an hundred years.
The garden of love is green without limit and yields many fruit other than sorrow and joy.
~Rumi
And don't think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter. It's quiet, but the roots are down there riotous.
Rumi
Winter is still here, but soon we will see this
“A garden to walk in and immensity to dream in--what more could he ask? A few flowers at his feet and above him the stars.”
― Les Misérables
Birds on the branches
In the evening darkness
Can they find berries?
Sasabune (contemporary)
Summer is here now. let us enjoy our gardens.
Eleanor Farjean
Morning Has Broken
Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the word
Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass
Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day
Tis the last rose of summer
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone:
No flower of her kindred,
No rose-bud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
Or give sigh for sigh.
I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!
To pine on the stem;
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I scatter
Thy leaves o'er the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.
So soon may I follow,
When friendships decay,
And from Love's shining circle
The gems drop away.
When true hearts lie wither'd,
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?
Thomas Moore
__________________________________
Summer is slowly coming to an end, but the roses are still blooming in the gardens. Enjoy their beauty while you can.
Sougi ( 1421 - 1502 )
Hito wo yume to ya
omoishiruramu;
sumi suteshi,
sono wa kochou no
yadori nite
Translation of Steven D. Carter:
That man's life is but a dream -
is what we now come to know.
Its house abandoned,
the garden has become home
to butterflies.
Eleanor Farjean
Morning Has Broken
Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the word
Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass
Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day
