Category Archives: Summer

The Garden

I dreamt and in my dream I saw
A garden fair behind a door,
The seat of rest from toil and war.

Within, the streams unending flow
And dryads make the bowers grow
As starry hosts above them glow.

By day th’eternal sunlight shines
And flowers bloom as mystic signs,
While water falls on eglantines.

The lark his morning song uplifts
While Philomel her faery gifts
By night unburthens, as the swifts

Their aerie dance for me perform.
This peaceful place no ghastly storm
Can mar, nor broil nor quake deform.

No fetter, bond nor cruel chain
There was to drag me hence again
For there delight and freedom reign,

While under shady eaves I lay.
At last – no more demands t’obey
No interruptions, just the play

Of wind and light in leafy green
No longer mankind’s tiresome spleen,
But free to be alone, unseen.

And in my dream I dreamt I sought
To see if here were missing aught
For as I ’gan to take some thought,

This place of peace, eternal rest
No longer seemed so perfect, blest
That slowly I grew worried lest

My garden should itself undo.
Then on its gates in ivory hue
I found engraved these letters true:

Who first considers neighbours foes
Will banish friends and love also.

And though ’twas filled with fancies nice,
My garden’s walls were deathly ice
To make a selfish paradise.


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Filed under Autumn, Spring, Summer, Winter

Sundering Song

Though sun aloft is shining soft,
The wind has left the wooded hurst.
The drooping leaf tells of my grief,
For this full heart is fit to burst.

How shall I bear this heavy air
That weighs down every single breath.
O wind, return, for now I learn
That sundered love is restless death.

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Filed under Love poems, Summer

To my love

—-Your every expression and move enchants,
Especially that running your fingers through your hair,
—-Which to my starved romantic soul grants
An intense pleasure; O love, do you know that youʼre fair?
—-And as you slowly turn away
—-With all my heart I wish youʼd stay.

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Filed under Love poems, Summer


The Norwind’s forces sally forth
Against the Southwind’s weapontake,
Whose sweltring gales are marching north;
Their footfall whipping up the lake.
The darkling clouds of icy ire,
Undaunted, never fail nor falter
‘gainst red and glaring clouds of fire
Escaped from Vulcan’s smithy-altar.
Then billows bellow brute and free
O’er heath and moors and shadow-meres
And thunder roars above the sea
As warriors clash and splinter spears.
Thus angry battle rages ever
While troubled skies must bear the whirl
Of wrathful winds in warlike weather,
Who lightning at each other hurl.

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Filed under Night, Summer

Wolstonbury Hill

Steep-sloped earth-walled    storm-beaten hill top,
Weather has worn you,    wars have ravaged
Your ancient sanctuary,    safe place in anarchy
And uncertain times.    Sober chieftains
Of the Down Dales,    their doom unwitting,
Ruled on your heights,    holding sway over
The rolling green;    rising and waning
As their fathers before.    Feast and sacrifice,
Year by year since    yore, returned to
The heroeshall    on hill of chalk.
Your virgin maidens,    from morning dance returning,
Their heads crowned and    crested beautifully
With orchid headdress:    awed and shyly
To their elders glancing;    Your glades of oak,
Where maying lovers    met early by dawn;
Your raised unwrought    ring of eldstones
Where forest and field    folk held mootings,
Are all gone, long gone,    lost in history –
Yesteryear’s unknown.
                                                       And yet – when wind
Blows blustering o’er    your battled peak,
I hear an unseen    hillsong singer;
The haunting voice of    your vigilant past.

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Filed under Autumn, Classical, Medieval, Spring, Summer, Winter

The Dangers of Reading


De periculo legendi

In the shade of a leafy awning,
roof of light & green leaves marbled,
sits a youth contently yawning,
murm’ringly reading old texts garbled

Surrounded by fruit trees hung ripe,
scanning Antiquity at its best
oblivious to katydids & snipe,
errare humanum est

While the vine her tendrils slowly winds
around his unsuspecting legs,
philosophy unwinds his mind
& summer draws heavily from its dregs

Freely birds & other creatures
now nest amongst his unkempt hair;
though still beholding ancient ligatures,
he’s late acquired a stony air

errare humanum est: it is human to err

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Filed under Classical, Summer