Of borders, beds and shrubberies and lawns and avenues, With statues on the terraces and peacocks strutting by; But the Glory of the Garden lies in more than meets the eye. For where the old thick laurels grow, along the thin red wall, You'll find the tool- and potting-sheds which are the heart of all. The cold-frames and the hot-houses, the.. The Glory of the Garden. Our England is a garden that is full of stately views, Of borders, beds and shrubberies and lawns and avenues, With statues on the terraces and peacocks strutting by; But the Glory of the Garden lies in more than meets the eye.

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Our England is a garden that is full of stately views, Of borders, beds and shrubberies and lawns and avenues, With statues on the terraces and peacocks strutting by; But the Glory of the Garden lies in more than meets the eye. For where the old thick laurels grow, along the thin red wall, You will find the tool- and potting-sheds which are the heart of all; The cold-frames and the hot-houses.. The Glory of the Garden it abideth not in words. And some can pot begonias and some can bud a rose, And some are hardly fit to trust with anything that grows; But they can roll and trim the lawns and sift the sand and loam, For the Glory of the Garden occupieth all who come. Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not made