Chatsworth - Autumn 2012 with Lynn

The Hare
Walter de la Mare

In the black furrow of a field
I saw an old witch-hare this night;
And she cocked a lissome ear,
And she eyed the moon so bright,
And she nibbled of the green;
And I whispered “Wh-s-st! witch-hare,”
Away like a ghostie o’er the field
She fled, and left the moonlight there.

A Hare
Walter de la Mare

Eyes that glass fear, though fear on furtive foot
Track thee, in slumber bound;
Ears that whist danger, though the wind sigh not,
Nor Echo list a sound;
Heart - oh, what hazard must thy wild life be,
With sapient Man for thy cold enemy!

Fleet Scatterbrains, thou hast thine hours of peace
In pastures April-green,
Where the shrill skylark's raptures never cease,
And the clear dew englobes the white moon's beam.
All happiness God gave thee, albeit thy foe
Roves Eden, as did Satan, long ago.

16th January 2013

Happy 50th Birthday, James,

with love from Elaine x

 

James May is Fifty!

You cannot be fifty!
You're kidding us surely?
You must be mistaken,
You've counted it poorly!

You have such a sparkle,
A twinkly eye,
You're handsome, and active,
Despite Spam and pie.

You always are busy,
A national treasure,
Who makes lots of shows,
for our teleview pleasure.

Oh no! If it's true,
Do not worry or sigh,
Don't be downhearted,
I'll now tell you why.

I'm right here, to help you,
I've written a list,
To remind you of things
that till now you have missed...

Your nose hair will sprout,
and your eyebrows grow bushy,
Your hair will turn white,
and your six-pack all mushy??

Not to mention the wrinkles,
they'll call 'laughter lines',
But along with the eyesight
that's one of the signs.

You'll get letters from Saga,
they don't hang about,
They are ever so clever
at seeking you out.

Your toenails will harden
your waistline will thicken,
Or else you'll grow scrawny
and look like a chicken!

But,
There is some good news!
And I'm sure you'll agree,
Because like a fine wine
You've matured, favourably.

The ladies, it seems,
Think you're still in fine fettle.
You can drive a Ferrari,
Yet can handle a kettle.

You're loved by your Woman,
The world knows your name.
And yet you will Tweet us,
despite all your fame.

You're older and wiser
It's these things that matter,
It's family and friends,
And a drink and a natter.

But seriously James,
I do think that you're great,
And send my Best Wishes,
As you celebrate.

So lift up your glass,
Have a brilliant time,
Here's to James May at fifty,
Now in his prime.

http://www.high50.com/archives/life-times/mayday-mayday-its-james-mays-50th

Babylon
George William Russell

The blue dusk ran between the streets: my love was winged within my mind,
It left to-day and yesterday and thrice a thousand years behind.
To-day was past and dead for me, for from to-day my feet had run
Through thrice a thousand years to walk the ways of ancient Babylon.
On temple top and palace roof the burnished gold flung back the rays
Of a red sunset that was dead and lost beyond a million days.
The tower of heaven turns darker blue, a starry sparkle now begins;
The mystery and magnificence, the myriad beauty and the sins
Come back to me. I walk beneath the shadowy multitude of towers;
Within the gloom the fountain jets its pallid mist in lily flowers.
The waters lull me and the scent of many gardens, and I hear
Familiar voices, and the voice I love is whispering in my ear.
Oh real as in dream all this; and then a hand on mine is laid:
The wave of phantom time withdraws; and that young Babylonian maid,
One drop of beauty left behind from all the flowing of that tide,
Is looking with the self-same eyes, and here in Ireland by my side.
Oh light our life in Babylon, but Babylon has taken wings,
While we are in the calm and proud procession of eternal things.

A Farewell
Coventry Patmore

With all my will, but much against my heart,
We two now part.
My Very Dear,
Our solace is, the sad road lies so clear.
It needs no art,
With faint, averted feet
And many a tear,
In our opposed paths to persevere.
Go thou to East, I West,
We will not say
There's any hope, it is so far away.
But O my Best,
When the one darling of our widowhead,
The nursling Grief,
Is dead,
And no dews blur our eyes
To see the peach-bloom come in evening skies,
Perchance we may
Where now this night is day,
And even through faith of still averted feet,
Making full circle of our banishment,
Amazed meet;
The bitter journey to the bourne so sweet
Seasoning the termless feast of our content
With tears of recognition never dry.

London celebrates the New Year in style!

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-20861403