Roger/Arthur,
Yes, of course. Thanks for filling me in.
Colin
----- Original Message -----
From: "Roger Collett" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Tuesday, April 15, 2003 11:47 PM
Subject: Re: newsub/grass
> Gerard Manley Hopkins
>
> R
>
>
> ----- Original Message -----
> From: "hui dewar" <[log in to unmask]>
> To: <[log in to unmask]>
> Sent: Tuesday, April 15, 2003 9:24 AM
> Subject: Re: newsub/grass
>
>
> > Arthur,
> >
> > Thanks for reading it. Who is GMH?
> >
> > Colin
> >
> >
> > ----- Original Message -----
> > From: "arthur seeley" <[log in to unmask]>
> > To: <[log in to unmask]>
> > Sent: Monday, April 14, 2003 8:23 AM
> > Subject: Re: newsub/grass
> >
> >
> > > 'Long live the wet and the wilderness yet' ( GMH)
> > > Lovely poem Colin . thank you for the read. Arthur.
> > > ----- Original Message -----
> > > From: "Colin dewar" <[log in to unmask]>
> > > To: <[log in to unmask]>
> > > Sent: Thursday, April 10, 2003 11:19 PM
> > > Subject: newsub/grass
> > >
> > >
> > > > Uncut Grass
> > > >
> > > > We didn't cut the grass this year
> > > > and now we are lost at sea.
> > > > We guess at the form of the wind
> > > > from the bellying of green.
> > > > I drop anchor where my daughter
> > > > tugs at stems and sneezes.
> > > >
> > > > We learn flowers,
> > > > wave upon wave,
> > > > dandelion and lady's smock -
> > > > yellow and violet on a spring day,
> > > > clover in summer
> > > > and when we think them ended,
> > > > hawkbit like another dandelion
> > > > runs to the sky.
> > > >
> > > > At night the hawkbit closes
> > > > and I perform Tai Chi
> > > > with the grass tugging my ankles,
> > > > wetting my socks under a Summer moon.
> > > > At dawn it opens
> > > > in brotherly colour to meet the sun.
> > > >
> > > > When the sun shines we hang out washing to dry.
> > > > Bed clothes flap blankly
> > > > and shirts and trousers
> > > > dance like other selves
> > > > on adventurous swell.
> > > > I live with sail cloth
> > > > as it bounces and billows
> > > > to tug itself free.
> > > >
> > > > Tide after tide of changes
> > > > as months go by.
> > > > Seedlings of ash and sycamore
> > > > are poised to take over,
> > > > stretch darkness above our heads.
> > > > Must I reach for my blade,
> > > > be farmer not sailor,
> > > > store hay year after year?
> > > >
> > > >
> > > >
> > > > Colin
> > >
> > >
>
|