'I'm always looking for the Hows and the Whys and the Whats,' said Muskrat, 'That is why I speak as I do. You've heard of Muskrat's Much-in-Little, of course?'
'No,' said the child. 'What is it?'
- The Mouse and his Child. Russell Hoban.

Go here to find out more.

Saturday, 29 May 2010

Poetic Thoughts of Autumn

Here about the park I wander'd, walking a dog sublime
With the dog lead of polycarbonate, with one eye on the Time;

When the summer behind me like a fruitful land reposed;
When I thought about the present, of the winter that would froze;

In the Autumn a fuller orange comes upon Redwood and Birch;
In the Autumn the silent Heron gets himself another perch;

In the Autumn a livelier yellow changes on the spurwing'd plover;
In the Autumn a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of rugger.

With apologies to Alfred, Lord Tennyson and Locksley Hall.


  1. "... Here about the beach I wander'd, nourishing a youth sublime
    With the fairy tales of science, and the long result of Time;
    When the centuries behind me like a fruitful land reposed;
    When I clung to all the present for the promise that it closed:
    When I dipt into the future far as human eye could see;
    Saw the Vision of the world and all the wonder that would be.--
    In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast;
    In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest;
    In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove;
    In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love."

  2. Not just in the Spring I think do young men's fancies lightly turn to love.

    Your Monarch was out rather late wasn't she?

    That's made me feel chilly. Or perhaps it's the fact that it's a few days from June and still sub 10 deg here in the Hebrides. I cannot recall it being so chilly. I must be getting nesh.

  3. Indeed, GB. But in winter they are possibly sublimated somewhat to Rugby. As in 'Not tonight Josephine, I've got a big game on tomorrow'.

    My monarch was indeed late. But it was a he not a she. Thinner vein lines and a black spot on each hind-wing = male.

    'Nesh' - what a wonderful word. I looked it up and wiki says there is no synonym for it. I learned something today! Thank you!

  4. You take the most amazing photos. I can't seem to be able to do that. But I did write this unrhymed poem six years ago (not exactly Locksley Hall, but still...):

    October 25, 2004
    by Robert H. Brague

    Our friend Carolyn came over for lunch
    And as we finished at the table
    Someone said, "Let's go for a ride!"
    So into the car we piled,
    Like children giddy with anticipation,
    Not knowing where we were going
    But eager to be having an adventure;
    And someone said, "Where shall we go?"
    And we said, "We don't know!"
    And someone else said, "Name a direction!"
    And because the fall thus far at home
    Had been drab and disappointing,
    We headed north toward the mountains, laughing.

    Five hours later we returned,
    Tired but invigorated,
    Having been to Helen and Unicoi Gap
    And Hiawassee and Lake Chatuge,
    Making all of the hairpin turns
    And ascending, always ascending, until
    We crested and began to descend
    Through another set of hairpin turns,
    And all the while we oohed and ahhed
    And said how glad we were that we had come,
    Drinking in the brilliant reds, the dazzling yellows,
    The shocking oranges of autumn, the mountains ablaze
    Against a clear blue sky.

  5. Serves me right for being 'clever'. I didn't actually bother to look. In fact I didn't think of looking which was very silly of me because if I had looked and enlarged it I would have known. I was just making the point that I don't always assume the male gender when referring to something. The best laid plans....

  6. Cursed be the sickly forms that err from honest Nature's rule!

  7. Robert! What a fantastic poem! And not stolen either! Wow. I wish I had been on that trip, too.

    GB, sorry, I was just being clever too. Your motive was pure. There probably are too many 'he's' in literature, so to speak. It's never bothered me overmuch. The he/she proviso seems somewhat clumsy I think. We should invent a new personal pronoun to cover both/either. How about "s'he"?

    YP. If ye suggest I am sickly to have plagiarised and wrought subsequent mutilation and desecration to the good lord Alfred's work, then I stand chastened, vilified and humbled in the full knowledge of my transgression and will endeavour never to duplicate this occurrence again.

  8. Whoa! Who rattled your cage Katherine? In using the quote from Tennyson, I was more thinking of your previous post in which you noticed Nature amongst the "sickly forms" of the city and in this post your pictures mostly celebrate Nature's bounty.

  9. Gasp, you mean you were being nice YP?

    Good-oh. Well, I take it all back and I will continue to wreck famous poetry after all.