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Poem by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman


Second Series. 7. His heart was in his garden; but his brain


His heart was in his garden; but his brain
Wandered at will among the fiery stars:
Bards, heroes, prophets, Homers, Hamilcars,
With many angels, stood, his eye to gain;
The devils, too, were his familiars.
And yet the cunning florist held his eyes
Close to the ground,--a tulip-bulb his prize,--
And talked of tan and bone-dust, cutworms, grubs,
As though all Nature held no higher strain;
Or, if he spoke of Art, he made the theme
Flow through box-borders, turf, and flower-tubs;
Or, like a garden-engine's, steered the stream,--
Now spouted rainbows to the silent skies;
Now kept it flat, and raked the walks and shrubs.



Frederick Goddard Tuckerman


Frederick Goddard Tuckerman's other poems:
  1. First Series. 5. And so the day drops by, the horizon draws
  2. First Series. 13. As one who walks and weeps by alien brine
  3. First Series. 26. For Nature daily through her grand design
  4. First Series. 27. So to the mind long brooding but on it
  5. Third Series. 4. Thin little leaves of wood fern, ribbed and toothed


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