Wohlibuli's Blog
Wohlibuli's Blog
24 Jul, 2008
5 comments
My Garden Gate
My garden blooms with roses rare
And trees where nestlings mate
In early spring when soft winds sigh
Around my garden gate.
A rustic seat is hidden where
Both joys and sorrows wait
Where trumpet vine and daffodils
Bloom round my garden gate.
When woes beset on every hand
And sorrow seems my fate
I grab my hat and spend an hour
Beside my garden gate.
I bid my troubles all adieu
Until a later date
And find a peaceful haven there
Beside my garden gate
A poem by Blanche Elder Crispin,
my great grandmother
from her book “Drifting Sands”
Comments
24 Jul, 2008
True word spoken from your great grandmother Wohilbuli My troubles all seem to disappear when I am in my garden My little haven
25 Jul, 2008
Janette, I couldn't agree more with you. So they do. That's probably why we love gardening so much; it gives us peace and quiet, time to think. A lot better than housework, I must say. Wohlibuli, your great grandmother was a wonderful poet. I loved reading that. Don't you have any of her genes??? Blache is also such a poetic name I think. Thanks for sharing it with us.
25 Jul, 2008
Glad you all enjoyed her poetry. She wrote most of her poetry during the depression and WWII, but she had a few about her everyday life.
Oh Marguerite I so agree with you, I would SOOO much rather be working in the garden than working in the house!!!
Unfortunately I do much better with prose than poetry. She was a great women I do remember that, but I don't think I take after her except maybe in the gardening genes..lol
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19 Aug, 2008
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Joined 31 Jan, 2008
Dublin
Irish
24 Jul, 2008
oh wohlibuli that poem is beautiful