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| By Gadding Moor |
Where are the vivid greens of summer
Emeralds and harlequin and mint
And water lilies spreading by the dam
Where lustrous dragonflies darted?
Now the colours are departed.
Under plumbous skies we move like ghosts
No definition or shadows cast
No sense of future or what’s past.
By Gadding Moor, midst ancient beeches
A gurgling beck tumbles ever eastwards.
Under a carpet of autumn leaves
The woodland path is still concealed.
Oh, where are the songs of springtime
Primrose, bluebell and celandine
Drifts of wild garlic milk white by the lane
And when will the swallows be here again?
Every day is a school day. I didn't know harlequin was a green. I think the answer to your question (in prose I'm afraid) is that as moments they have disappeared into the mists of time but as moments they will return to be savoured one more and the old memories will make way for the new ones. Life will plod on. Some of us will be part of it and some of us will not.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your intelligent consideration Graham.
DeleteActually, I was amazed to see so much colour on our snowy walk the day before yesterday. Amidst the black trees and white snow, there was still plenty of rusty brown leftover from autumn, and patches of green grass showing up on snow-covered field. A pale watery sun was trying hard to get through.
ReplyDeleteAs I wrote this poem, I had in mind the walk I undertook last Thursday near Hoylandswaine. It was grey and very January. As I look out of the window today it is in fact bright and colourful and most un-January.
DeleteWhen Spring arrives, innit?
ReplyDeleteYou're not Sue after all - you're Vicky Pollard!
DeleteBy your photo you have some green stuff! You may be longing for some these things but from my perspective here in the snow you're a bit of a whiner!!! Nice poem. More of us should try to write poetry.
ReplyDeleteI wonder what rhymes with "Red"?
DeleteThere once was a fellow called Red
Who tried to do what he said
But one day while out skating
He kept the Micro Manager waiting
And now he's got a lump on his head.
Graham caught the reference to harlequin as a shade of green, which I did not; I'm happy to have learned that.
ReplyDeleteLovely poem, YP. We just had another snowstorm, so things here are white, whiter, and whitest. Tomorrow they will start changing to dirty brown and dirty grey as motorists send sprays of dirty melted snow onto the banks as the sides of the streets and roads. But for today, it is beautiful white.
I don't know if you haven't seen my pleas (in the comments on the last couple of your posts) to email me or have decided to ignore them, but I can't publish your last comment on my post of Monday last week until I hear from you. If you're okay with that, and don't want to know why, that's fine, but if you've just missed my comments, this is a heads up.
Oh. Okay Jenny. I will check that out.
DeleteLovely words, Yorkie.
ReplyDeleteI wish autumn was here...better still...winter. The heat and humidity is killing me! I'm being an unapologetic sloth...it's too hot to get too enthusiastic about anything...except the tennis. And, I'm not playing...but watching the tournaments leading up to the Australian Open that begins next Monday.
I'll drift away in the coolness portrayed through your poem. :)
I am so pleased that you appreciated this poem Lee. I tried very hard to capture the feeling of a grey January day in northern England and I also tried to pick the best words - putting them in the best order I could achieve.
DeleteOoooh -- "plumbous"! What a good word!
ReplyDeleteI am sure I never used that word before but in this poem it seemed more effective than "leaden".
Delete