Hannah’s in Her Garden
Hannah’s in her garden
With trowel in her hand
She makes the buds and blossoms grow
Just the way she planned.
Hear her tuneful whistle
Come drifting through the trees.
Her cap pulled low, she’s digging,
And down upon her knees.
Sunshine on her shoulders,
She loves the feel of sod;
The honey-bees and bird song
Reminding her of God.
Talking to her flowers,
Her hands amidst their roots
So gentle in their delving
Among their greening shoots.
Underneath the blue sky
She smells the pine and herb
And feels the sense of wonder
That nothing can disturb.
Hannah’s in her garden
And everything I fine,
When Hannah’s in her garden
And I’m in mine.
