How fair is a garden amidst the trials and passions of existence (Benjamin Disraeli)

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This is an extract from “Of Gardens,” an essay by Francis Bacon (1561-1626)

And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (where it comes and goes, like the warbling of music), than in the hand, therefore nothing is more fit for that delight, than to know what be the flowers and plants that do best perfume the air.

That which, above all others, yields the sweetest smell in the air, is the Violet, especially the white double Violet, which comes twice a year, about the middle of April, and about Bartholomew-tide. Next to that is the Musk-Rose; then the Strawberry leaves dying, with a most excellent cordial smell; then the flower of the Vines, it is a little dust like the dust of a Bent, which grows upon the cluster in the first coming forth; then Sweet-Briar, then Wallflowers, which are very delightful to be set under a Parlour or lower chamber window; then Pinks and Gillyflowers, specially the matted Pink and Clove Gillyflower; then the flowers of the Lime-tree; then the Honeysuckles, so they be somewhat afar off.

Of Bean-flowers I speak not, because they are field-flowers; but those which perfume the air most delightfully, not passed by as the rest, but being trodden upon and crushed, are three; that is, Burnet, Wild Thyme, and Water-Mints; therefore you are to set whole alleys of them, to have the pleasure when you walk or tread.

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“Flowering garden at Sainte-Adresse” by Claude Monet (1840-1926)

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Finally, a brief look at Monet’s garden at Giverny.



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“I am half-sick of shadows, said the Lady of Shalott”

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There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay,
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.

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“The Lady of Shalott”

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And down the river’s dim expanse -
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance -
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.

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Both those paintings are by John William Waterhouse (1849-1917) and the verses are from “The Lady of Shalott” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892).

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This is an interesting slide show of sketches and drawings by Waterhouse.




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If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome. (Anne Bradstreet 1612-1672)

Yesterday the twig was brown and bare;
To-day the glint of green is there;
Tomorrow will be leaflets spare;
I know no thing so wondrous fair,
No miracle so strangely rare.
I wonder what will next be there!   (L. H. Bailey 1858-1954)

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“Spring Morning” by the English painter William Joseph Bond 1833-1926

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The Spring comes in with all her hues and smells,
In freshness breathing over hills and dells;
O’er woods where May her gorgeous drapery flings,
And meads washed fragrant by their laughing springs.
Fresh are new opened flowers, untouched and free
From the bold rifling of the amorous bee.
The happy time of singing birds is come,
And Love’s lone pilgrimage now finds a home;
Among the mossy oaks now coos the dove,
And the hoarse crow finds softer notes for love.
The foxes play around their dens, and bark
In joy’s excess, ‘mid woodland shadows dark.
The flowers join lips below; the leaves above;
And every sound that meets the ear is Love. (John Clare 1793-1864)

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I‘m delighted to have discovered this YouTube item - “It was a lover and his lass” played and sung by an Early Music Ensemble from Belgrade called “Flauto Dolce.”



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This week at EIGHTY PLUS FOUR (an octogenarian looks back) I look back to the 19th century when many Scots set off for the unknown to begin new lives in America.

http://80plus4.blogspot.com

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A pretty girl is like a melody that haunts you night and day (a popular song by Irving Berlin)

The pale moon was rising above the green mountain
The sun was declining beneath the blue sea
When I strayed with my love to the pure crystal fountain
That stands in beautiful vale of Tralee.

She was lovely and fair as the rose of the summer
Yet, 'twas not her beauty alone that won me
Oh no! 'Twas the truth in her eye ever beaming
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.

The cool shades of evening their mantle were spreading
And Mary all smiling was listening to me
The moon through the valley her pale rays was shedding
When I won the heart of the Rose of Tralee.

Though lovely and fair as the rose of the summer
Yet, 'twas not her beauty alone that won me
Oh no! 'Twas the truth in her eye ever beaming
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee. (William Pembroke Mulchinock 1820-1864)

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Now in the Louvre, Paris, Leonardo’s famous painting is also known as “La Gioconda” and “La Jaconde.“ Both titles can be translated as “the jocund lady”, though it’s possible that it was so named because the subject may have been the wife of Francesco del Giocondo.

Throughout the past 400 years, people have talked and argued about her smile. The writer Lawrence Durrell suggested “She has the smile of a woman who has just dined off her husband.”

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To complete the trio of pretty girls, here is “The Girl with the Flaxen Hair” by Debussy (1862-1918), played by Tony Tobin. The photographs are of the Claude Debussy Museum at St. Germaine-en-Laye, the house in which the composer was born.



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The first post of my new blog EIGHTY PLUS FOUR (an Octogenarian looks back) can now been seen at -

http://80plus4.blogspot.com
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