where the cow-parsley skirts the hawthorn-hedge
Hello, I hope you’ve been enjoying the gorgeous Spring sunshine. After just the longest winter, it seems like someone’s flicked a switch and almost launched us into Summer overnight. My cherry tree is alive with the buzz of bees and scattering a liberal layer of confetti petals across the garden.
Today’s post is a poem. I think it’s one I’ve shared before, but it’s something I keep coming back to. As well as being impossibly romantic, I love that it captures the essence of one of those perfect English afternoons, just at the start of Summer, where everything seems possible and time stands still. It’s a poem really, that could have been written for a day like today.
- DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI
Your hands lie open in the long fresh grass, -
The finger-points look through like rosy blooms:
Your eyes smile peace. The pasture gleams and glooms
‘Neath billowing skies that scatter and amass.
All around our nest, far as the eye can pass,
Are golden kingcup-fields with silver edge
Where the cow-parsley skirts the hawthorn-hedge.
’Tis visible silence, still as the hour-glass.
Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragon-fly
Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky: -
So this wing’d hour is dropt to us from above.
Oh! clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower,
This close-companioned inarticulate hour
When twofold silence was the song of love.