The Kensington Garden Club, a non-profit organization, was founded in 1955 and is a member of the Federated Garden Clubs of Connecticut .
Our purpose is to increase interest and advance knowledge in the culture and care of flowers, fruits, trees and birds, and to assist in beautifying our public grounds and buildings.
The Kensington Garden Club continues to grow. Our members have discovered there is something of interest for everyone who enjoys gardening and floral design.
This page was last updated: January 3, 2012
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DOGWOOD TREE
by Marion Doyle
In May the Dogwood blossomed,
And oh, but it was fair;
As if the shimmering whiteness hung
Suspended in the air.
When summer came I passed to find
Its flowering was done,
But lovely still, in silver-green,
It took the morning sun.
And when, in gray November,
Once more with it I stood
Its, little lamps of scarlet tips
Lit all the sombre wood.
It was as if that slender tree
Was a message meant for me:
What if the sky was tarnished metal?
I could recall each pearly petal.
And here were berries flaming bright
as a signal fire at night.
Spelling out against the skies:
Nothing ever wholly dies.
I brought a branch away with me
as living shibboleth,
A shinning promise there shall be,
Out of dark November death,
White rebirth in a Dogwood tree--
And glowing as that branach, my faith
Renewed in Immortality.
DOGWOOD TREE
by Marion Doyle
In May the Dogwood blossomed,
And oh, but it was fair;
As if the shimmering whiteness hung
Suspended in the air.
When summer came I passed to find
Its flowering was done,
But lovely still, in silver-green,
It took the morning sun.
And when, in gray November,
Once more with it I stood
Its, little lamps of scarlet tips
Lit all the sombre wood.
It was as if that slender tree
Was a message meant for me:
What if the sky was tarnished metal?
I could recall each pearly petal.
And here were berries flaming bright
as a signal fire at night.
Spelling out against the skies:
Nothing ever wholly dies.
I brought a branch away with me
as living shibboleth,
A shinning promise there shall be,
Out of dark November death,
White rebirth in a Dogwood tree--
And glowing as that branach, my faith
Renewed in Immortality.
DOGWOOD TREE
by Marion Doyle
In May the Dogwood blossomed,
And oh, but it was fair;
As if the shimmering whiteness hung
Suspended in the air.
When summer came I passed to find
Its flowering was done,
But lovely still, in silver-green,
It took the morning sun.
And when, in gray November,
Once more with it I stood
Its, little lamps of scarlet tips
Lit all the sombre wood.
It was as if that slender tree
Was a message meant for me:
What if the sky was tarnished metal?
I could recall each pearly petal.
And here were berries flaming bright
as a signal fire at night.
Spelling out against the skies:
Nothing ever wholly dies.
I brought a branch away with me
as living shibboleth,
A shinning promise there shall be,
Out of dark November death,
White rebirth in a Dogwood tree--
And glowing as that branach, my faith
Renewed in Immortality.
