Clickable picture
from "Loud without the wind was roaring"
But lovelier than corn-fields all waving
In emerald, and vermeil, and gold,
Are the heights where the north-wind is raving,
And the crags where I wandered of old.
In emerald, and vermeil, and gold,
Are the heights where the north-wind is raving,
And the crags where I wandered of old.
by Emily Bronte
The spirit which bent 'neath its power,
ReplyDeleteHow it longed-how it burned to be free!
If I could have wept in that hour,
Those tears had been heaven to me.
Yep, the picture and the words - BOTH are beautiful!
ReplyDeleteCheers
Helen
ELIZABETH - We seem to be in a game of poetry tennis....
ReplyDeleteFor the moors! For the moors, where the short grass
Like velvet beneath us should lie!
For the moors! For the moors, where each high pass
Rose sunny against the clear sky!
Umpire - "30 - 15"
HELEN Thank you. I am rather pleased with that simple photo with the storm clouded sky. I took sixty that day but this was definitely my favourite. Are there any landscapes like this in Australia?
As beautiful as they are,in my experience, the moors are nothing like velvet - I suggest a good thick blanket at the very least.
ReplyDelete'Well-well; the sad minutes are moving,
Though loaded with trouble and pain;
And some time the loved and the loving
Shall meet on the mountains again!'
I never did understand tennis, except that it involves balls and a lot of racket - so I'll leave the scoring to you. x
Thirty all! Yorkshire Pudding bashes his racquet against the net as Elizabeth waves serenely at the Wimbledon crowd. The final of the Emily Bronte tournament is very finely balanced.
ReplyDeleteWould you mind if I use that photo for my screen saver?
ReplyDeleteJAN I wuold be honoured if you used that photo as your screen saver. I'm so glad you like it.
ReplyDeleteAnd written before she was 30 years of age....sheesh!
ReplyDeleteWonderful image... Really wonderful.
ReplyDeleteAustralia:
The north wind is tossing the leaves
The red dust is over the town
The sparrows are under the eaves
And the grass in the paddock is brown...
No YP no landscapes like that here. I think your moors are unique. We have rolling paddocks, usually with grass the same colour but rarely without trees.
ReplyDeleteCheers
Helen
STEVE Sheesh kebab? I don't think they were available in Haworth in the early nineteenth century.
ReplyDeleteKATHERINE Am I beholding some antipodean rivalry here?
HELEN If you come back to England, you could dress as Catherine Linton and I would be Heathcliff. We'd run free across the moors before eating traditional sheesh kebabs from the Bronte Takeaway in Haworth though you might prefer a koalaburger with a Fosters tinny.
Well, I'd love to comment on that lovely poetry and your lovely pic, but all I can say is ... Millwall 4 Hull 0! Ya beauty!!!!!!!
ReplyDelete