Summer Poems : Haymaking
By Edward Thomas
Aftear night’s thunder far away had rolled
The fiery day had a kernel sweet of cold,
And in the perfect blue the clouds uncurled,
Like the first gods before they made the world
And misery, swimming the stormless sea
In beauty and in divine gaiety.
The smooth white empty road was lightly strewn
With leaves—the holly’s Autumn falls in June—
And fir cones standing stiff up in the heat.
The mill-foot water tumbled white and lit
With tossing crystals, happier than any crowd
Of children pouring out of school aloud.
And in the little thickets where a sleeper
For ever might lie lost, the nettle-creeper
And garden warbler sang unceasingly;
While over them shrill shrieked in his fierce glee
The swift with wings and tail as sharp and narrow
As if the bow had flown off with the arrow.
Only the scent of woodbine and hay new-mown
Travelled the road. In the field sloping down,
Park-like, to where its willows showed the brook,
Haymakers rested. The tosser lay forsook
Out in the sun; and the long waggon stood
Without its team, it seemed it never would
Move from the shadow of that single yew.
The team, as still, until their task was due,
Beside the labourers enjoyed the shade
That three squat oaks mid-field together made
Upon a circle of grass and weed uncut,
And on the hollow, once a chalk-pit, but
Now brimmed with nut and elder-flower so clean.
The men leaned on their rakes, about to begin,
But still. And all were silent. All was old,
This morning time, with a great age untold,
Older than Clare and Cobbett, Morland and Crome,
Than, at the field’s far edge, the farmer’s home,
A white house crouched at the foot of a great tree.
Under the heavens that know not what years be
The men, the beasts, the trees, the implements
Uttered even what they will in times far hence—
All of us gone out of the reach of change—
Immortal in a picture of an old grange.
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. A poem by: Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Images of Banna Strand, Kerry, Ireland
From “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner”
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
The “Rime“ is one of the greatest pieces of Romantic literature. And the section of this epic poem in which the dead sailors get up and start sailing the boat again without seeing anything is as terrifying as anything in the horror genre.
The thick black cloud was cleft, and still
The Moon was at its side:
Like waters shot from some high crag,
The lightning fell with never a jag,
A river steep and wide.
The loud wind never reached the ship,
Yet now the ship moved on!
Beneath the lightning and the Moon
The dead men gave a groan.
They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,
Nor spake, nor moved their eyes;
It had been strange, even in a dream,
To have seen those dead men rise.
The helmsman steered, the ship moved on;
Yet never a breeze up-blew;
The mariners all ‘gan work the ropes,
Where they were wont to do;
They raised their limbs like lifeless tools—
We were a ghastly crew.
The body of my brother’s son
Stood by me, knee to knee:
The body and I pulled at one rope,
But he said nought to me.
‘I fear thee, ancient Mariner!’
Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest!
‘Twas not those souls that fled in pain,
Which to their corpses came again,
But a troop of spirits ablest:
For when it dawned—they dropped their arms,
And clustered round the mast;
Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,
And from their bodies passed.
Around, around, flew each sweet sound,
Then darted to the Sun;
Slowly the sounds came back again,
Now mixed, now one by one.
Sometimes a-dropping from the sky
I heard the sky-lark sing;
Sometimes all little birds that are,
How they seemed to fill the sea and air
With their sweet jargoning!
And now ’twas like all instruments,
Now like a lonely flute;
And now it is an angel’s song,
That makes the heavens be mute.
It ceased; yet still the sails made on
A pleasant noise till noon,
A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.
Till noon we quietly sailed on,
Yet never a breeze did breathe:
Slowly and smoothly went the ship,
Moved onward from beneath.
Under the keel nine fathom deep,
From the land of mist and snow,
The spirit slid: and it was he
That made the ship to go.
The sails at noon left off their tune,
And the ship stood still also.
The Sun, right up above the mast,
Had fixed her to the ocean:
But in a minute she ‘gan stir,
With a short uneasy motion—
Backwards and forwards half her length
With a short uneasy motion.
Then like a pawing horse let go,
She made a sudden bound:
It flung the blood into my head,
And I fell down in a swound.
At the end of last week I visited the Connemara Mountains in County Galway, one of Ireland most beautiful landscape areas.
The weather was just amazing, changing every ten minutes with heavy showers moving very quickly across the mountains and lakes.
I just love this part of Ireland, the mountains here contain the following ranges ….
Mountains in County Galway
The Twelve Bens or Twelve Pins (Irish Na Beanna Beola) is a mountain range in Connemara. Dedicated hill climbers can hike all twelve in a single day. The twelve Bens are a group of small mountains that are the dominant feature of the Connemara countryside. They are easily accessible from the N59 or from the villages of Letterfrack or Recess.
Mweelrea rising from the northern shores of Killary Harbour, is one of the finest mountain massifs in Ireland. It may be climbed from Delphi following the ridges to the fjord.
Mammturk Mountains are a picturesque mountain range in North Connemara. They are less well known than their more famous neighbours, the Twelve Bens on the other side of the Inagh Valley. They are not very big (max 667m) but a pleasant climb in fine weather, with superb views and no congestion.
Mount Gable (1370 feet) is one of the most beautiful and scenic mountain walks in Ireland. It dominates the isthmus between Lough Corrib and Lough Mask and guards one of the major routes into Connemara from the east. The starting point for a walk is approximately 2km from the village of Clonbur.
Slieve Aughty Mountains
The Slieve Aughty Mountains are a mountain range spread over both County Galway and County Clare. The highest peak in the Slieve Aughty Mountains is Maghera in Clare which rises to 400m (1,314ft). The mountain range consists of two ridges divided by the Owendallaigh river which flows west into Lough Cutra.
Monday the 5th of October !
Monday Mornings are always a little like stepping onto a beach in the early Morning light, you wonder what you will find as you walk through the dunes and take your first steps into the sand. Many – many times you have been here before but seeing the beach again each morning you never now what has changed over night.
New drift wood, the ripples in the sand from the overnight tide and foot steps left by other early morning walkers, all these things will change the path you have to take as you take your own walk!
The Irish town of Allihies is one of Ireland hidden Gems, located at the end of the Béara Peninsula county cork it is the perfect getaway location for a holiday. I have visited many times and I am planning to do so again this year.
These images are from just some of my visits, while staying in a cottage with a sea view, they are captured on some evening walks in the setting sun.
The West Wind by John Masefield
IT’S a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds’ cries;
I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes.
For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills.
And April’s in the west wind, and daffodils.
It’s a fine land, the west land, for hearts as tired as mine,
Apple orchards blossom there, and the air’s like wine.
There is cool green grass there, where men may lie at rest,
And the thrushes are in song there, fluting from the nest.
“Will ye not come home brother? ye have been long away,
It’s April, and blossom time, and white is the may;
And bright is the sun brother, and warm is the rain,–
Will ye not come home, brother, home to us again?
“The young corn is green, brother, where the rabbits run.
It’s blue sky, and white clouds, and warm rain and sun.
It’s song to a man’s soul, brother, fire to a man’s brain,
To hear the wild bees and see the merry spring again.
“Larks are singing in the west, brother, above the green wheat,
So will ye not come home, brother, and rest your tired feet?
I’ve a balm for bruised hearts, brother, sleep for aching eyes,”
Says the warm wind, the west wind, full of birds’ cries.
It’s the white road westwards is the road I must tread
To the green grass, the cool grass, and rest for heart and head,
To the violets, and the warm hearts, and the thrushes’ song,
In the fine land, the west land, the land where I belong.
This weekend I am planning lots of time outside, just walking, relaxing and getting some fresh landscape images …
I hope what every you do , you have a great weekend and that if you can you get sometime to relax and enjoy your surroundings, in the country or in the city 🙂 🙂
Have a great weekend !!
Irish Landscape Gallery
I just want to share in this post, a set of images taken at the end of May 2015 during a visit to Dublin including one of my favorite places to walk around and people watch, while having a coffee and some lunch to eat 🙂
Trinity College, Dublin
The Swiss cottage in country Tipperary is one of Ireland’s unsung treasures, it was built around 1810 and is a fine example of cottage orné, or ornamental cottage. It was originally part of the estate of Richard Butler, 10th Baron Cahir who married Emily Jefferys of Blarney , and the cottage was primarily used for entertaining day guests of the couple.
The cottage was designed by the architect John Nash, famous for designing many Regency buildings.
The cottage has been restored by the local group and the OPW and must be one of their most loved properties as the condition is just amazing.
If you are visiting county Tipperary this is a must see location !
Wiki link for John Nash
Swiss Cottage, Cahir, Co. Tipperary – A sense of place Gallery