Gardening Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCCDBAAEFAAAF AAAGAACGHIJCHHCK AABLMMNLOOPQAARQ AAAGSSSS| GARDENING is hardening | A |
| In every way you view it | B |
| It makes a fellow hustle | C |
| And it strengthens every muscle | C |
| It knots up many a tendon | D |
| So that no one can undo it | B |
| It starts his back to aching | A |
| And the man who's busy raking | A |
| Out the cobble stones and paving bricks | E |
| Is very apt to swear | F |
| O gardening is hardening | A |
| It keeps wives busy pardoning | A |
| The hubbies who are spilling | A |
| Heated language on the air | F |
| - | |
| Gardening is maddening | A |
| And gladdening and saddening | A |
| It's tiring and inspiring | A |
| And at times a dreadful bore | G |
| It keeps a fellow coping | A |
| With potato bugs and hoping | A |
| That his radishes will equal | C |
| Those you purchase at the store | G |
| It is full of grim surprises | H |
| Disappointments it comprises | I |
| It has all the elements of work | J |
| And pleasure's roundelay | C |
| For one morn you find your roses | H |
| Shriveled up The next discloses | H |
| That the lettuce should be edible | C |
| About the end of May | K |
| - | |
| Gardening is vexing | A |
| There's no doubt it is perplexing | A |
| There are many things about it | B |
| We don't understand and can't | L |
| Why the lettuce we have tended | M |
| Carefully when all is ended | M |
| Should resemble in its toughness | N |
| Leaves from wife's rubber plant | L |
| Why the radishes we nourished | O |
| In a cool place where they flourished | O |
| As we followed the directions | P |
| Of the seed man to a jot | Q |
| Should appear to us inviting | A |
| And delude us into biting | A |
| Just to find that salamanders | R |
| Never could be quite so hot | Q |
| - | |
| Still we keep on ever hoeing | A |
| Planting garden truck and sowing | A |
| Many vegetables knowing | A |
| What the future has in store | G |
| And we till the soil with vigor | S |
| Every man must be digger | S |
| Though he cuts a sorry figure | S |
| When the harvest days are o'er | S |
Edgar Albert Guest
(1)
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