Poor Soil by Mabel Forrest

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The soil is poor and grey, I know,
And wonder how poor gardens grow
Such lovely flowers. I think somehow
The leaves upon the bending bough,
Between that garden and the sky,  
Could tell me why, could tell me why!
It is the care the gardener gives
To every little plant that lives.
He whispers to them secret things
Above the sweet peas' fragrant wings.
He has a love-tryst with the rose --
The garden knows, the garden knows!

First published in Cairns Post, 2 August 1930

Author reference sites: Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography

See also.

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on August 2, 2011 7:21 AM.

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