Dora Sigerson Shorter

(1866-1918 / Ireland)

My Neighbors Garden - Poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter

Why in my neighbour's garden
Are the flowers more sweet than mine?
I had never such bloom of roses,
Such yellow and pink woodbine.
Why in my neighbour's garden
Are the fruits all red and gold,
While here the grapes are bitter
That hang for my fingers' hold?
Why in my neighbour's garden
Do the birds all fly to sing?
Over the fence between us
One would think 'twas always spring.
I thought my own wide garden
Once more sweet and fair than all,
Till I saw the gold and crimson
Just over my neighbour's wall.
But now I want his thrushes,
And now I want his vine,
If I cannot have his cherries
That grow more red than mine.

The serpent 'neath his apples
Will tempt me to my fall,
And then—I'll steal my neighbour's fruit
Across the garden wall.

Comments about My Neighbors Garden by Dora Sigerson Shorter

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Wednesday, September 29, 2010

[Report Error]