Recently in Flowers and Gardens Category

The fairies live in garden flowers,
   As doth the caterpillar;
The mignonette a cottage is,
   A larkspur is a villa.

In rose-trees' old embattled walls
   Proud fairy earls are dwelling;
Campanulas are churches tall,
   Where bells the hours are telling.

Acanthus flowers let out as flats,
   Whose tennants are erratic;
I knew an artist fay who climbed
   Twelve stories to his attic.

And there's a fairy architect
   A curious gift discloses,
Restoring most artistic homes
   From ruinous moss-roses.

First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 3 October 1931

Author reference site: Austlit

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From out the fragrant basket of the blushing morn
   I took a golden rose,
A bud of hope 'mid leaves of promise borne,
   Would its pure heart unclose?  

From out noon's bowl of molten radiance bright
   I stole one jewelled hour,
Its facets flamed with pulsing, quivering light,
   Charged with enchantment's power.

From out the lap of eve a guerdon sweet  
   I e'er so softly drew.  
How the pale moments fled on dewy feet
   Only one spirit knew.

From out night's arch, which half her charm conceals,
   Swept as the flash of oars
Those golden steeds which move the whirring wheels
   Of her resplendent cars.

From out the arms of rapturous repose
   The answer came to me,
Love smiling held my full-blown golden rose
   Its glowing heart to see.

From out that garden with the wondrous maze
   Which mortals know as Time
There sounds a luring note where parts the ways,
   And we can hear the chime.

First published in The Brisbane Courier, 16 September 1914;
and later in
Rustling Leaves: Selected Poems by Emily Coungeau, 1920.

Author reference sites: Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography

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Imperial Roman Caesar never wore
   More lovely robe of royal, purple hue,
Than glows to-day amidst the fragrant store    
   Of violets, sparkling 'neath the pearly dew!      

From amethystine tint to darkest shade    
   Of lapis lazuli the violets shine,
Weaving a subtle, magic spell, all made  
   Of beauty woven from the years divine!  

A cloud of perfumed sweetness rises fair,
   With scented memories of bygone days,
From crystal bowl, and fills the cool June air,  
   Old Friends; long-dead Romance; and half sung lays!  

Hail! Purple violets in Imperial state!  
   You come to bring the past to life again.
Sweet-scented floral messengers of Fate,
   You whisper low that Love shall conquer pain!

First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 8 September 1934;
and later in
Australian Violets by Ivy Moore, 1937.

Author reference sites: Austlit

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Little pink Boronia,
   In your gingham gown,
Mid the silken poppies
   On a florist's stall in town.

Never droop your head ashamed;
   Fairer far than they
Are you in your native home
   Of the sandstone grey.

Would they leave your loveliness
   Where it aye belongs,
Dancing to the gay wind's kiss
   And the free birds' songs.

First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 31 August 1929

Author reference site: Austlit

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I planted me a garden close with blossoms all ablow,
Where mignonette and heliotrope and cool white roses grow,
And hollyhocks stand tall and straight, like spear points in a row.  

My garden glows with lovely things -- delphiniums, lapis blue
And wistful pansies, purple-slaahed across their midnight hue,
And gold nasturtiums pierce the shade like sunshine breaking through.

To-day, beside my petalled path, I found a stranger fair,
A slender swaying bushland flower no hand had planted there,
Whose fragrance burned like incense thro' the langurous noontide air.

And sweet and frail it shyly blooms beside a flame-tree tall,  
Where blue-winged butterflies flit past and honey-eaters call,
And happy morning glories cling about my garden wall.  

A dainty lady, primose gowned my uninvited guest,
As faintly gold as that last ray when day dies in the west.
I think in all my garden sweet, I love her much the best.

First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 18 April 1931

Author: Edith Sterling Levis (1881-1971) was born in Glen Innes, New South Wales, and died in St Leonard's. also in New South Wales.  Beyond this little is known about this author.

Author reference site: Austlit

If I could keep a garden fair,
   Red poppies there would be;
No tragic bloom would whisper there --
   "Dost thou remember me?"

She walked the lonans long between,
   And lightly laughed at me.
Her head was draped in Irish green,
   Her limbs in cramoisie.

She held two roses in one hand
   (A sword swung to her knee),
The Scarlet Rose of Valor and
   The Rose of Purity.

She said -- "When I am rich, my Sweet,
   As I shall always be,
Three States shall march down Sackville-street,
   And I the first of Three."

First published in The Bulletin, 17 March 1904

Author reference sites: Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography, Australian Poetry Library

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Blue loveliness the Lassiandra flings
   Across the lawn and down the stone-flagged path --
A scattered host of broken, violet wings.
   The frail, drenched harvest of the storm wind's wrath;

Like songs some sweet, uncertain poet sings
   Amid life's storm - his heart's imaginings,
Lovely in hope, in young ambition's flings,
   But loveliest of all in aftermath.

First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 25 February 1928

Author reference site: Austlit

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The night is hot -- the air is still,
   And Drought lies brooding o'er the plain.
Then -- mem'ry brings, without my will,
   The scent of Lilac in the rain!
The drying swamp gleams weirdly white,
   The Plovers eerily complain;  
Yet -- stealing through the stifling night
   This thought of Lilac in the rain!
It comes like echo soft and low
   Of some soul-haunting, sweet refrain.
Do you remember . . . long ago
   The scent of Lilac in the rain?

First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 14 January 1933

Author: Nothing is known about the author of this poem.

Author reference site: Austlit

See also.

Thou orbed emblem of the sun,
   How deeply glow thy fires;
So thrilled with life thy magic zone,
   Aflame with dear desires.

Tell me! Oh spirit of the flowers,  
   One thing I fain would learn,
Why thou, as mortals, dream swift hours,
   Then unto dust return.

Thy life is briefer than our own,
   And lovely is thy core;
Wherefore, sweet flower, for thee alone,
   I weave this metaphor.

As planets of the solar sphere
   Move round a central sun,
The tapering golden leaves, so fair,  
   Surround thy cushioned throne.

I am, though brief my span may be,
   For him who doubts or grieves
A mentor of Eternity.
   Go; seek it in my leaves.

First published in The Brisbane Courier, 23 December 1914;
and later in
Rustling Leaves: Selected Poems by Emily Coungeau, 1920.

Author reference sites: Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography

See also.

(In the Botanic Gardens, Sydney.)    

November Lilies! Sculptured, regal, gleaming,
   Each petalled chalice alabaster white,   
Gold pollen-dusted; melody is dreaming   
   Within your loveliness of carven light.

November Lilies! Etched 'gainst palms, low bending;
   And Kurrajong and River-oaks soft green;
Pale summer leaves of Peach and Plum are blending --   
   Adding their beauty to your lovely sheen.     

November Lilies! Butterflies are winging,
   Their lovely colours painting your white flow'rs;
Drowsy bees humming-birds their carols singing --
   Rich beauty pent in Sydney's garden bow'rs.

November Lilies! When in far East dwelling,
   Did your rich splendour to the gods belong?
And is the music your sweet scent is telling,
   Part of the morning star's harmonious song?

First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 30 November 1935

Author: Annie MacDonald (1870-??), nee Lowe, was born in Kew in Victoria in 1870.  Beyond this nothing is known about this author.

Author reference site: Austlit

One led me through a garden, wide and fair,  
   "Are not my roses beautiful?" she said;   
And so I praised them, delicately bred,
   And wisely tended with another's care.  

I love nasturtiums best, with thready hearts,  
   And flamy petals brave as poverty    
Decked out in hope, for in my memory  
   There is a picture, solaces and smarts --  

A little barefoot girl, upon her knees,    
   Pondering nasturtiums by a ragged fence.  
I hear again the childish confidence,
   That whispered reverently. "God planted these!"   
   
First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 26 November 1932

Author: Ethel Davies (1897-??) was born in Oxfordshire, England and was a founding member of the Western Australia branch of the fellowship of Australian Writers in 1938.  Other than this, nothing is known about the author.

Author reference site: Austlit 

We wandered where the tail ferns fringed and filled from bank to bank
   The amber-watered, creek, and stooped, Narcissus-like, to wed
Their shadows, and the lillyplllies, berry-laden, drank
   The stream, and on the fallen trunks the fungus blossomed red.            

We followed from the stagnant creek, by narrow cattle path,
   Where scarlet peas and tangled vines their tendrils interlace.
And found the tumbled stones that marked a long-deserted hearth,  
   A rose tree spread its thorny arms in vacant, sad embrace.

More faithful than the other works that long-stilled hand had raised,
   More constant in its long neglect, the rose that lingered there,
And may be lips, and laughing lips, its early bloom had praised,
   And one who reeks not now had judged its fragrant burden fair.

The dying splendor of the sky illum'ed the darkened range,
   Where rustling spirits of the night among the shadows roam.
We left it with its untold tale, its tragedy of change --
   The rose amid the stones that once had borne the name of Home!  

First published in The Australian Town and Country Journal, 21 November 1906

Author reference site: Austlit

See also.

Shy one, I said, you can take me away in a breath,
But I like not the coat that you come in -- the colour of death.  

The silence you come with is sweeter to me than a sound,
But I love not the colour -- I saw it go into the ground.            

And, though you haunt me with all that is health to a rhyme,
My thoughts are as old as the native beginning of Time.  

Your scent does encompass all beauty in one loving breath,
But I like not the coat that you come in -- the colour of death.        

First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 31 July 1937;
and later in
Beauty Imposes: Some Recent Verse by John Shaw Neilson, 1938;
A Book of Australian Verse edited by Judith Wright, 1968;
Cross-Country: A Book of Australian Verse edited by John Barnes, 1984; and
John Shaw Neilson: Poetry, Autobiography and Correspondence edited by Cliff Hanna, 1991.

Author reference sites: Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography, Australian Poetry Library

See also.

Give me the flowers our great grandmothers grew--
The bachelors' buttons in a small tight row--
Old lavender for linen white as snow--
Heartsease and marigolds and violets blue.
Bring me the pinks and mignonette they knew,
Dark grannies' bonnets, crimson phlox aglow
Beside the hollyhocks, as long ago
They walked Great Aunt Maria's garden through.
I know the aster, Iceland poppy bright,
New daisies and now dahlias have their hour.
I want an old rose in my greying hair,
A posy of such blooms from an old bower
As with a valentine thrilled some love night--
Sweet Alice to sweet William, greeting fair!

First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 28 March 1925

Author reference sites: Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography, Old Qld Poetry

See also.