From Nosegays to Newbery: The Floral Verses of Elizabeth Coatsworth
This botanical history post was featured on The Daily Gardener podcast:
May 31, 1893
On this day, dear readers and lovers of verse, we celebrate the birth of Elizabeth Coatsworth, that most enchanting American writer of fiction and poetry for both children and adults.
As we delve into the lyrical world of this remarkable wordsmith, prepare to be transported by her evocative imagery and her profound connection to the natural world.
Coatsworth's literary prowess was recognized in 1931 when she was awarded the prestigious Newbery Medal for her children's book, The Cat Who Went to Heaven.
But it is perhaps in her poetry that we find the most delightful glimpses into her garden-inspired imagination.
Let us first turn our attention to her poem "November," which captures the essence of that transitional month with such exquisite simplicity:
November comes
And November goes,
With the last red berries
And the first white snows.
Can you not, dear gardeners, feel the chill in the air?
The vivid contrast of those last stubborn berries against the first dusting of snow?
In just four lines, Coatsworth paints a picture that speaks volumes about the changing seasons in our gardens.
But it is her poem "Nosegay" that truly delights the senses of any flower enthusiast.
For those unfamiliar with the term, a nosegay was a small bunch of flowers, typically sweet-scented and worn at the waist or bodice - a charming custom that harkens back to a more romantic era.
Coatsworth's words breathe new life into this tradition:
Violets, daffodils,
roses and thorn
were all in the garden
before you were born.
Daffodils, violets,
red and white roses
your grandchildren's children
will hold to their noses.
Oh, what a delightful image! In these eight simple lines, Coatsworth spans generations, reminding us of the timeless appeal of our garden blooms.
She invites us to consider not just the beauty we see before us, but the legacy of beauty that has come before and will continue long after we are gone.
As we tend our gardens today, let us carry with us the spirit of Elizabeth Coatsworth's verses.
May we see in each daffodil and violet not just a fleeting moment of beauty, but a link in a chain that stretches back through time and forward into the future.
And perhaps, as we gather our own nosegays, we might pause to consider what fragrances and colors will delight the gardeners of generations yet to come.
Until next time, dear readers, may your gardens be filled with poetry, your verses bloom with the vigor of spring flowers, and may you always find inspiration in the ever-changing tapestry of nature that surrounds us.
