The Dormouse’s Garden: A.A. Milne’s Delightful Ode to Delphiniums, Geraniums, and Chrysanthemums

July 7, 2020

Today we celebrate one of the most charming garden poems ever written—A.A. Milne’s “The Dormouse and the Doctor.”

Milne, of course, is best known as the creator of Winnie the Pooh, that beloved bear of very little brain and very great heart. But long before the Hundred Acre Wood became famous, Milne proved a deft hand at capturing the quiet humor and sweetness of simple things—like flowers, beds, and the curious wisdom of small creatures.

This poem, a particular favorite among gardeners, introduces us to a gentle dormouse who prefers simplicity: his bright bed of red geraniums and blue delphiniums.

When a well-meaning doctor insists on improvement—by replacing everything with proper chrysanthemums—the results are both comical and tender.

The story reads like a fable about the beauty of contentment and the folly of interfering with another creature’s happiness.

There once was a Dormouse who lived in a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red),
And all the day long he'd a wonderful view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).

A Doctor came hurrying round, and he said:
"Tut-tut, I am sorry to find you in bed. Just say
'Ninety-nine', while I look at your chest…
Don't you find that chrysanthemums answer the best?"

The Dormouse looked round at the view and replied
(When he'd said "Ninety-nine") that he'd tried and he'd tried,
And much the most answering things that he knew
Were geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).

The Doctor stood frowning and shaking his head,
And he took up his shiny silk hat as he said:
"What the patient requires is a change," and he went
To see some chrysanthemum people in Kent.

The Dormouse lay there, and he gazed at the view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue),
And he knew there was nothing he wanted instead
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).

The Doctor came back and, to show what he meant,
He had brought some chrysanthemum cuttings from Kent.
"Now these," he remarked, "give a much better view
Than geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue)."

They took out their spades and they dug up the bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red),
And they planted chrysanthemums (yellow and white).
"And now," said the Doctor, "we'll soon have you right."

The Dormouse looked out, and he said with a sigh:
"I suppose all these people know better than I.
It was silly, perhaps, but I did like the view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue)."

The Doctor came round and examined his chest,
And ordered him Nourishment, Tonics, and Rest.
"How very effective," he said, as he shook
The thermometer, "all these chrysanthemums look!"

The Dormouse turned over to shut out the sight
Of the endless chrysanthemums (yellow and white).
"How lovely," he thought, "to be back in a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red)."

The Doctor said, "Tut! It's another attack!"
And ordered him Milk and Massage-of-the-back,
And Freedom-from-worry and Drives-in-a-car,
And murmured, "How sweet your chrysanthemums are!"

The Dormouse lay there with his paws to his eyes,
And imagined himself such a pleasant surprise:
"I'll pretend the chrysanthemums turn to a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red)!"

The Doctor next morning was rubbing his hands,
And saying, "There's nobody quite understands
These cases as I do! The cure has begun!
How fresh the chrysanthemums look in the sun!"

The Dormouse lay happy, his eyes were so tight
He could see no chrysanthemums, yellow or white.
And all that he felt at the back of his head
Were delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).

And that is the reason (Aunt Emily said)
If a Dormouse gets in a chrysanthemum bed,
You will find (so Aunt Emily says) that he lies
Fast asleep on his front with his paws to his eyes.
— A.A. Milne, English author and poet, The Dormouse and the Doctor

It’s a delightfully whimsical tale that every gardener secretly understands.

Sometimes, the best garden remedy is not change but contentment. The dormouse, wise in his simplicity, knows that the most beautiful view will always be the one that feels like home—where geraniums blaze and delphiniums rise, content to bloom as they always have.

And perhaps Milne, who often wrote with quiet nostalgia, was gently reminding us of something larger: that happiness does not require improvement. Sometimes, in gardens as in life, the red and blue we already have are quite enough.