12th century silk painting “Bird on a Branch” by Li Anzhong

I once had a sparrow alight upon my shoulder for a moment, while I was hoeing in a village garden, and I felt I was more distinguished by that circumstance that I should have been by any epaulet I could have won. (Henry David Thoreau 1817-1862)

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A linnet in a gilded cage -
A linnet on a bough -
In frosty winter one might doubt
Which bird is luckier now.
But let the trees burst out in leaf,
And nests be on the bough,
Which linnet is the luckier bird,
Oh, who could doubt it now? (Christina Georgina Rossetti 1830-1894)

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Within a churchyard, on a recent grave,
I saw a little cage
That jailed a goldfinch. All was silence save
Its hops from stage to stage.

There was inquiry in its wistful eye,
And once it tried to sing;
Of him or her who placed it there, and why,
No one knew anything. (Thomas Hardy 1849-1928)

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Thanks to “puntocaramelo” for this video. The music -  “Gabriel’s Oboe” by Ennio Morricone comes from the film The Mission



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my new blog . . . . . . A TOUCH OF CULTURE . . . . . . my new blog

                             Starting Friday 1st October

Every Friday     http://atouchofculture.blogspot.com   Every Friday
                   

My other blogs Eighty Plus, Quiet Corner and Wise Men Say are continuing as usual

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Summer ends, and Autumn comes, and he who would have it otherwise would have high tide always and a full moon every night. (Hal Borland)

“Full Moon” attribution -  Arun.blue at en.wikipedia

How like a queen comes forth the lonely moon
From the slow opening curtains of the clouds
Walking in beauty to her midnight throne. (George Croly)

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Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon:
This way, and that, she peers and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog
From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep
Of doves in a silver-feathered sleep;
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws and silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam
By silver reeds in a silver stream. (Anon)

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“Moonlight and Roses” is the title of this popular song published in 1921. The tune was taken without permission from an organ piece “Andantino in D flat” by Edwin Lemare 1866-1934. After legal action in 1925, the composer was granted share of the royalties.



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Autumn is a second spring where every leaf is a flower (Albert Camus)

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A piece of prose, a poem and two haiku - I’ve chosen them because they show the kind of attitude poets have for what we consider to be households pests.

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House or Window Flies

These little indoor dwellers, in cottages and halls, were always entertaining to me; after dancing in the window all day from sunrise to sunset they would sip of the tea, drink of the beer, and eat of the sugar, and be welcome all summer long.

They look like things of mind or fairies, and seem pleased or dull as the weather permits. In many clean cottages and genteel houses, they are allowed every liberty to creep, fly, or do as they like; and seldom or ever do wrong.

In fact they are the small or dwarfish portion of our own family, and so many fairy familiars that we know and treat as one of ourselves. 
(John Clare 1793-1864)

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An August Midnight

A shaded lamp and a waving blind,
And the beat of a clock from a distant floor;
On this scene enter - winged, horned and spined -
A longlegs, a moth, and a dumbledore;*
While ’mid my page there idly stands
A sleepy fly that rubs its hands.

Thus meet we five, in this still place,
At this point of time, at this point in space,
My guests besmear my new-penned line,
Or bang at the lamp and fall supine.
“God’s humblest, they!” I muse. Yet why?
They know Earth-secrets that know not I. 
(Thomas Hardy 1849-1928))

* dumbledore = bumblebee (old modern English)
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Two haiku by Kobayashi Issa (1763-1828)

don’t worry
little spider
I won’t touch your web

I’m going out
you flies can relax
make love

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When we were on holiday in Arran a few years ago, I took this photograph of the Holy Isle in the Firth of Clyde.

The old Gaelic name for the island was Eilean Molaise, named after a 6th century monk Saint Molaise who lived in a cave there.

The island has always had religious connections. There was a monastery in the 13th century and there’s a spring which is said to have healing properties.

The Holy Isle is now the perfect setting for the Samyé Ling Buddhist Community who have frequent residential courses and retreats.

Part of the island is a nature reserve with ponies, sheep and goats. I found this photo of one the ponies on Wikipedia.

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Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close-bosom friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimmed their clammy cells.
(From “To Autumn” by John Keats 1795-1821)

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This is a portrait of Maria Theresia von Paradis (1759-1824)  an Austrian composer and musician. She lost her sight when a very young child. It’s believed that Mozart wrote his Piano Concerto No.18 in B flat especially for her.   

Sicilienne, one of her compositions, has always been a great favourite of mine. It’s played here by the cellist Jacqueline Du Pré (1945-1987) accompanied by Gerald Moore.



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