Scottish Poetry Selection
- My Garden
My GardenIn many a marvelous fashion
From berry and husk and pod,
Its seeds in their migrant passion
Were sown on the winds of God.
The old man Winter wrought it
With frost for his rake and hoe,
And happy young April brought it
The sprinkle that bade it grow,
Outlasting, outstaying the swallow,
The flowers to my garden wing:
A star to the dusk of the hollow
A chalice of gold to the spring.
And now it's the lake and the river
With lily flotillas afloat.
And now it's the foxglove and quiver
A bee in each purple throat.
And now with November glooming,
When streams have a darker roll
It's ivy has clomb to blooming
Self trellised on scarp and bole.
And on till the mornings harden,
And leaves are shed from the tree
I walk with joy in the garden
That God has made for me.
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