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(illustration)
(illustration)
by
Pictured by
(dedication)
To May Graham Wallas
Trees look empty, branches bare,
When the busy months begin,
Gardeners all must have a care
Not to stay too much within.
Catkins, on the hazel, show
Garden work has well begun;
Snowdrops in a shining row
Blossom in the winter sun.
Brush the Old Year leaves away,
Make the New Year garden neat,
Gardeners must not stop for play
Till their labour is complete.
Purple, white and yellow cup,
Now the crocus reaches up
Treasured blossoms, every one,
Fearless to the wind and sun.
Hyacinths with stately heads,
Make processions through the beds,
While the little squills dance by
In the colour of the sky.
Now beside the privet row,
Many dainty wind-flowers blow,
Strayed sweet dwellers of the wood,
Come to stay with you for good.
You must then sow speedily,
Hollyhocks and honesty,
Gilliflowers and columbine,
Sweetly scented eglantine--
Canterbury bells, to ring
Summer in with triumphing,
And nasturtiums bright, to fill
Every empty window-sill.
Little slips of lavender--
Where no busy feet do stir,
Southernwood for bushes high,
Rosemary for by and by--
Plant them all while March is here:
While his crest and flashing spear
Shine throughout the happy land,
Do your work with joyous hand.
Through the meadow April comes,
Leaving, as he passes,
Companies of daffodils
All among the grasses.
Tulips round about the door,
Ranged in martial order;
Violets in sweet array,
Up and down the border.
And beside the lily-pond,
Mindful of its sleepers,
Guards of light frittillaries,
For its fairy keepers.
Sow your fine chrysanthemums
While he blithely passes,
Dahlias too, and thrift, to blow
All among your grasses.
Roses pink and roses red,
Hold a court in every bed;
Stately lilies tall and white,
Pay them homage day and night.
Marigolds and poppies show
In a rich and radiant row,
And beyond their splendid line,
Irises in purple shine.
Honeysuckle scents the air,
Loveliness is everywhere,
And beside the border-grass
Venus's own looking-glass.
Now the privet bears its flowers,
Now the petals fall in showers
Where a white syringa-tree
Guards the homely honesty.
Bulbs must come from out the ground,
Young ones must be good and sound,
And with care be put away
For another gardening day.
Water well, and tie, and trim,
June fills quickly to the brim,
Fills with work for those who'd be
Helpers in her husbandry.
Jasmine blossoms round the arbour,
Elder spreads along the air,
Hollyhocks stand proudly tallest
In the fragrant thoroughfare.
Pansies, like a 'broidered carpet,
Through the garden ways are set,
And the sweet-peas catch the sunlight
In a tangled flowery net.
Sunflowers, with a kingly bearing,
Hold their golden heads on high,
Pinks breathe out a friendly welcome
Every time you pass them by.
Gather seeds while seeds do ripen
In the bounteous July sun,
Garner well the treasure-packets
In your store-house one by one.
And before the month is over,
Pluck sweet lavender and dry
All its tiny flowers for sweetness,
In the winter by and by.
Like a delicate sea coral,
Barberry shines here and there,
Through the brightness of a garden
Filled with all the summer's ware;
And the fuchsia hangs its blossom
In the richly scented air.
Passion-flowers in sober beauty,
Through the trellis twine and twist,
And the stocks breathe out their fragrance
Near the sweet love-in-a-mist;
Where the bees all day for gladness
In their honey-search persist.
Cut your box and mow your grass now,
Lest they grow too thin and high,
Gather herbs too, for distilling,
As was done in days gone by,
For the old ways are the wisest
When our gardening plans run high.
September brings the ripening sun,
The clear sharp morning air,
And asters in a border wide,
And daisies for the garden's pride,
And foxgloves everywhere.
Among the rushes and the reeds
Long purples bend and sway,
Between the water and the land,
Beside the shining stream they stand
Till Autumn fades away.
Plant crocuses and tulips rare,
To bloom in next Year's Spring,
And crown imperials rich and fine,
To stand up in a glorious line
Amid new blossoming.
Where the beech and maple grow
Leaves as bright as flowers show,
Every path, and garden bed,
Are ablaze with gold and red.
Down the lane, and through the stiles,
Berries shine for miles and miles,
Hips and haws and night-shade deep,
Do the hedge-rows festal keep.
For your happy wearing see,
Matchless wreaths of briony,
Fairer than a jewelled crown
For a child to gather down.
Now is pleasant work all-day,
In the orchard where you play,
Laden branches bid you sing
Of a plenteous gathering.
Still the garden blossoms bravely,
Though the Year is nearly done,
Fresh chrysanthemums are shining
In the pale and wintry sun.
Such a number of bright colours
Make the beds and borders plain,
We believe the summer roses
Must have all come back again.
Now's the time when great plantations
Must be planted, oak and fir,
Beech and elm, and towering poplar
That the wandering night-winds stir.
And the time when treasured fruit-stones,
In the summer stored away,
Must be set, that spreading orchards
May grow up another day.
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1904