Wiliam Wordsworth

 

I wandered lonely as a cloud,

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

*****

I remember learning this poem by the English poet William Wordsworth in our English class when I was at high school but can't get beyond the first verse these days. So that's what we have above. I thought of it as soon as we saw the daffodils along the side of the motorway. We had to take a short  detour from our normal route to get the pictures but that was no problem. 

Does anyone else have these things spring to mind when you see or hear something like this?

Blessings,

Diana

Oranges and lemons

 Oranges and Lemons

Oranges and lemons,

Say the bells of St. Clement's.

You owe me five farthings,

Say the bells of St. Martin's.

When will you pay me?

Say the bells of Old Bailey.

When I grow rich,

Say the bells of Shoreditch.

When will that be?

Say the bells of Stepney.

I do not know,

Says the great bell of Bow.

Here comes a candle to light you to bed,

And here comes a chopper to chop off your head!

I've just been reading a book with 'oranges and lemons' in the title and it got me to thinking about some of the games I played as a kid. 'Oranges and lemons' was one of them. 

We played on the street, ours was a short street and everyone knew each other. We were in and out of each other's homes and only went back to our own for meals and bed. 

The street I grew up in taken from the hill end. This must have been taken at least 40 years ago as our house is still standing in this photo but it has actually been knocked down along with a few others and pensioner flats have been built there. My aunt at the top right of the page and some of the boys I grew up with at the bottom right and on the bottom left.

Other games we played were cowboys and Indians and the boys were actually allowed to play with toy guns and bows and arrows. None of them grew up to be murderers. Skipping with a rope someone's father had brought home from the wharf, one girl at either end and 2 or 3 jumping in the middle. Hide and seek in the dark and ring a ring o' rosies.  The boys played cricket with old apple boxes for wickets. Our neighbour had a bay window at the front and the ball frequently went through it. Strangely by the time she made it to the street to see who the culprits were there was not a kid or an apple box in sight. These are just some I can think of off the top my head. Did anyone else play these games. I'm thinking some in my age group would have.

At the top end of the street was a farm on a hill. As long as there were no sheep in the paddock we were able to climb over the stile and play there. There was a large piece of exposed rock at one side and generations of kids used it as slide, I'm sure our knickers and shorts all wore out more quickly than they should have. Poor mothers. Mind you some of the parents had grown up in the same street so had inflicted the same thing on their mothers :) 

It was a great place to grow up, even if everyone knew everything about everyone else :) It was a real community.

******

Thank you for your kind comments on my last post. I really wasn't fishing for compliments but appreciate what you all said. My mother was a writer in that she wrote stories for her grandchildren as well as short stories and was great at writing poems but never had anything published. I suppose I take more after her although I don't write poetry :)

Until next time. 

Look after yourselves and keep well.

Diana

The First of September

Below are some photos I took around town today, 

it was cold and grey and the colour was just starting

 to show on some of the trees and bushes 

while on others the branches were still bare and bereft of any life.

Almost as if we were still in the throes of winter.

The poem I've put with them sums up

 the beginning of spring in New Zealand,

where I live, as well as Australia, which it mentions.

The jonquils have been putting on a great show for most of the winter

but the daffodils are the first ones I have seen this season.

*************

The morning it is breaking cloudy and gray

It does seem another cool late Winter's day

But the birds in the Parkland they whistle and sing

Believe it or not 'tis the first day of Spring

The first day of September the day of the year

When to Australia in the Southern Hemisphere

The Spring she arrives for her three months stay

With much warmer weather just a few weeks away

The Spring has arrived with her wildflowers and green

And her beauty in gardens and parks to be seen

Spring she arrives and she brings with her new life

And in parks and gardens Nature's beauty is rife

For the first day of September a cool chill in the breeze

But the birds chirp and whistle on the bushes and trees. 

The First Of September 

Francis Duggan

*****************

Joining in with Stephanie at: 

roses of inspiration

I hope you are enjoying your week 

whatever the season.

Until next week,

Diana

A poem for Palm Sunday.

 The Donkey

by G. K. Chesterton

When fishes flew and forests walked

And figs grew upon thorn,

Some moment when the moon was blood

Then surely I was born.

With monstrous head and sickening cry 

And ears like errant wings,

The devil's walking parody 

On all four footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth, 

Of ancient crooked will;

Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb, 

I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;

One far fierce hour and sweet:

There was a shout about my ears, 

And palms before my feet.

Blessings to all as we head into Holy Week.

Diana