No. 1370: The winners Charles Seaton reports: Since poets, though

they may rhapsodise over gardens, seldom give much in the way of practical advice, competitors were asked for helpful verses on any gardening subject.

Not all poets, however, are sluggards in giving advice — and certainly not Cowper:

The stable yields a stercoraceous heap, Impregnated with quick fermenting salts . . .

is how (in The Task) he begins his descrip- tion of how to construct a hotbed, and he deals as well with pruning, potting up seedlings, and growing exotic plants in the greenhouse. However, he said nothing about snails, slugs, aphids, sawflies, black spot, mildew, rust, weeds and marauding cats, all comprehensively dealt with by competitors, who roundly attacked these and other garden scourges. As W. S. tirownlie put it, 'Don't let nasties call the shot: Toxify the bloody lot.' And the weapons? He and Charles Carr, among others, listed the armoury: such names as rnetaldehyde, permethrin, diazinon, se- questrene and dimethoate are enough to scare a neophyte gardener, let alone a cutworm or a mealy-bug. Entries covered the whole gamut of gardening from a lyrical invocation of Vita Sackville-West, poet and gardener, and creator of the garden at Sissinghurst, to Charles Mosley's instructions on repairing garden gnomes. The five winners, covering almost as wide a field, earn £10 each; close runners-up were Russell Lucas on insecti- cides, Mary Holtby on compost heaps, and Mrs P. Woolley with her herb garden. The bonus bottle of Cognac Courvoisier VSOP goes to reward the labours of George Moor.

Well-tempered dung the undersoil should bless. he prudent gardener avoids excess. Tile gifts of neighbours keeping hens in sheds I—Ike those of Greeks beware, and spare your beds, For hen-muck, rich with nitrogen, will burn And flow'ry towers to a scorched Troy turn,

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swift a fevered giant growth ascends Till lush liana round the chimney wends. dough offers of pig-waste may be well-meant, i‘efuse, and not alone on grounds of scent,

Or Amazonian jungle rank and wild Will soon replace herbaceous borders mild.

The kindly cow has waste, that, mixed with straw, We may.receive with gratitude and awe.

But let its ardour cool, its fervour sleep, Then (grateful to the Maker) fork it deep.

(George Moor) If, when the fingers of the dawn Uncurl themselves across your lawn, They show you clover, daisies, moss, Do not waste time in being cross.

Lawn sand, remember, will rebuff The moss, and there's some other stuff Which leaves the grass, but kills the rest.

Your lawn will not now look its best: Brown moss, black weeds, grass mottle-faced, The garden's like a patch of waste.

Take courage, brother; you will need A sack of compost, and some seed.

Go forth, and sow to make amends, Guarding against your feathered friends; And after three weeks, see what passes: A glorious birth of waving grasses. (Paul Griffin) Planting Runner Beans First, choose an open, sunny site, Then peg your line and stretch it tight; Next, dig a trench nine inches deep And put in compost from your heap.

On either side, at even space, Set canes, whose tops must interlace To hold a bar the trench's length, Securely tied to give them strength.

Beside the base of every pole Next drill a finger's depth of hole, Wherein you drop a little seed, Hard, coloured, shiny, like a bead.

Now rake the soil across the top, Lay slug bait to protect your crop, And all you've left to do is pray For blessings on Rogation Day. (0. Smith) A Gardening Acrostic Prickly, thwart and intertwined, Roses are an utter bind Unless restrained. First, hone your shears; Next, arm yourself (or else — it's tears!) In doughty gloves — stout cotton twill's Nearly thorn-proof. Mid-winter chill's Good pruning weather. Don't be loath To cut away all inward growth.

Harsh yet tender is your role: Excise the dead, deformed; control Ruthlessly all errant sprays - Or else you'll end up with a maze.

Snip just above each bud or `eye'; Echo the way they point or lie.

Summatum est — await July! (Andrew McEvoy) The Nymphs and Flora dance in showers And gild the earth with groundsel flowers; But sound advibe on how to sow Wins First Prize in the Autumn Show.

In primis, then, take horse manure Well-rooted till it stinks no more, Then bastard trench and spread the muck: Trust in good dung and not to luck.

Secundo, search for first-class seed Whose germination's guaranteed; Tertio, the rake must burst the clods, The sieve besprinkle erstwhile sods.

In fine remember hose and hoe. This should suffice; but if not, go And nobble your near rivals' plots, Or they, not you, may win the pots.

(D. E. Poole)