by Francis Quarles

Even as the soil (which April's gentle showers 
Have filled with sweetness and enriched with flowers) 
Rears up her sucking plants, still shooting forth 
The tender blossoms of her timely birth; 
But if denied the beams of cheerly May, 
They hang their withered heads, and fade away.


As featured on
The Daily Gardener podcast:

Words inspired by the garden are the sweetest, most beautiful words of all.
Francis Quarles
Francis Quarles