Famous Nature Poem

One of the topics Muriel Stuart (1885-1967) liked to write about was nature. She even stopped writing poetry to pursue writing about gardening. In this poem, she shares about the hidden potential of seeds. In their current state, they look like lifeless stones, but an entire garden and forest rests inside of them when they are planted. The same could be said about people. When we don’t embrace our purpose and contribute to society, we are no better than unplanted seeds. But once we allow our gifts and talents to be used, we create beauty for others to enjoy.

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The Seed-Shop

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HERE in a quiet and dusty room they lie,
Faded as crumbled stone and shifting sand,
Forlorn as ashes, shrivelled, scentless, dry -
Meadows and gardens running through my hand.

Dead that shall quicken at the voice of spring,
Sleepers to wake beneath June’s tempest kiss;
Though birds pass over, unremembering,
And no bee find here roses that were his.

In this brown husk a dale of hawthorn dreams;
A cedar in this narrow cell is thrust
That shall drink deeply at a century’s streams;
These lilies shall make summer on my dust.

Here in their safe and simple house of death,
Sealed in their shells, a million roses leap;
Here I can stir a garden with my breath,
And in my hand a forest lies asleep.

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