Of borders, beds and shrubberies and lawns and avenues,
With statues on the terraces and peacocks strutting by;
But the Glory of the Garden lies in more than meets the eye.
For where the old thick laurels grow, along the thin red wall,
You’ll find the tool and potting-sheds which are the heart of all,
The cold frames and the hot-houses, the dungpits and the tanks,
The rollers, carts and drain-pipes, with the barrow and the planks.
And there you’ll see the gardeners, the men and ‘prentice boys
Told off to do as they are bid and do it without noise;
For, except when seeds are planted and we shout to scare the birds,
The Glory of the Garden it abideth not in words.
And some can pot begonias and some can bud a rose,
And some are hardly fit to trust with anything that grows;
But they can roll and turn the lawns and sift the sand and loam,
For the Glory of the Garden occupieth all who come.
Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not made
By singing:- ‘Oh, how beautiful, and sitting in the shade,
While better men than we go out and start their working lives
At grubbing weeds from gravel paths with broken dinner knives.
There’s not a pair of legs so thin, there’s not a head so thick,
There’s not a hand so weak and white, nor yet a heart so sick,
But it can find some needful job that’s crying to be done,
For the Glory of the Garden glorifieth every one.
Then seek your job with thankfullness and work till further orders,
If it’s only netting strawberries or killing slugs on borders;
And when your back stops aching and your hands begin to harden,
You will find yourself a partner in the Glory of the Garden.
Oh, Adam was a gardener, and God who made him sees
That half a proper gardener’s work is done upon his knees.
So when your work is finished, you can wash your hands and pray
For the Glory of the Garden that it may not pass away!
And the Glory of the Garden it shall never pass away!
And now to some current views around my garden (I am still not happy with the way 'blogger in draft' place my photographs. They seem to do the opposite to what I want - takes forever.)I may have to change back.
Have not been able to spend too much time working in the garden recently as we are having a heat wave. With the forecast for 88 degrees last weekend (and that is always in the shade) it was into the 90's outside. On the plus side we have been eating all our meals outside which is nice as we are a bit confined at present.
The birds love their daily bath
The above group of rose pictures were taken at night
You might like to click here and view my post on Rudyard Kipling's own garden.