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Post by :tatters
Category :Poems
Author :David Morton
Date :October 2011
Read :1039
Click below to download : An Old Gardener (Format : PDF)
An Old Gardener
He has always a wise and knowing air:For him there is no mystery in the mould,
Where seeds put on the shimmering things they wear,
And come to birth in yellow, green, and gold.
His quizzical, grey eyes can somehow mark
The silver shaft of sunlight where it goes,
Still radiant and undarkened in the dark,
To find the seed room of the hidden rose.
For him the secret alchemies are plain;
He tells most surely how these things befall,
In words grown intimate with roots and rain;
And yet, he is so tender of it all,
So wise and kind in ways of leaf and sod,
Sometimes I think him very like to God.
(The end)
David Morton's poem: Old Gardener
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Here where the snow comes whitely down, All worldiness is done; The saintly, silent little Town Is like a nun; Most holy in her street and spire, Most perfectly at rest,-- Ah, God, who knows what hid desire Is in her breast, Where peony or daffodil Or wayward rose begins, Burning her drifted bosom, still, Like secret sins.(The end)David Morton's poem: Veil
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Behind these falling curtains of the rain, Beauty goes by, a phantom on the hill, A timid fugitive beyond the lane, In rainy silver,--and so shy and still That only peering eyes of some hid bird, Or furry ears that listened by a stone, Could guess at Something neither seen nor heard, Finding escape, and faring by, alone. For eyes like ours, too faint a thing and fleet, Too lightly running for such
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