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I BENDED UNTO ME A BOUGH

Thomas Edward Brown  1830-97  

I bended unto me a bough of May,

That I might see and smell:

It bore it in a sort of way,

It bore it very well.

But, when I let it backward sway,

Then it were hard to tell

With what a toss, with what a swing,

The dainty thing

Resumed its proper level,

And sent me to the devil.

I know it did - you doubt it?

I turned, and saw them whispering about it. 

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from "The Wind in the Willows" by Kenneth Grahame 1859-1932

Well might the terrified weasels dive under the tables and spring madly up at the windows!  Well might the ferrets rush wildly for the fireplace and get hopelessly jammed in the chimney!  Well might tables and chairs be upset, and glass and china be sent crashing on the floor, in the panic of that terrible moment when the four Heroes strode wrathfully into the room!  

The mighty Badger, his whiskers bristling, his great cudgel whistling through the air; Mole, black and grim, brandishing his stick and shouting his awful war-cry, "A Mole! A Mole!" Rat, desperate and determined, his belt bulging with weapons of every age and every variety; Toad, frenzied with excitement and injured pride, swollen to twice his ordinary size, leaping into the air and emitting Toad-whoops that chilled them to the marrow! 

"Toad he went a-pleasuring!" he yelled.  "I'll pleasure 'em!" and he went straight for the Chief Weasel.  

They were but four in all, but to the panic-stricken weasels the hall seemed full of monstrous animals, grey, black, brown, and yellow, whooping and flourishing enormous cudgels; and they broke and fled with squeals of terror and dismay, this way and that, through the windows, up the chimney, anywhere to get out of reach of those terrible sticks.  

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SUNSET

Florence Peacock (dates not known)

"The setting sun of old age ever gilds with rosy tints the days gone by."

The setting sun of life gilds with its rays
The unforgotten but far distant days,
The days when youth and hope walked hand in hand.

It sheds around the past a rosy glow,
That past which never was a present, though
On looking back o'er life it seems to stand

Bathed in a crimson glory, - and old age
Lingers with loving fondness o'er the page
Thus lighted up by memory's golden rays.

-o0o-

from "Auguries of Innocence"
William Blake 1757-1827

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.

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NEXT POST HERE SATURDAY 23rd MAY

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