Then something Tookish woke up inside him, and he wished to go and see the great mountains, and hear the pine-trees and the waterfalls, and explore the caves, and wear a sword instead of a walking-stick. J.R.R. Tolkien,… Read More

Summer in the light …

It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade. Charles Dickens

On A Hot Summer Day

Messing about in boats is a meaningful occupation on a hot summer day ūüôā All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still,… Read More

The Spirit of Poetry by Longfellow

The Spirit of Poetry There¬†is¬†a¬†quiet¬†spirit¬†in¬†these¬†woods, That¬†dwells¬†where’er¬†the¬†gentle¬†south-wind¬†blows; Where,¬†underneath¬†the¬†white-thorn,¬†in¬†the¬†glade, The¬†wild¬†flowers¬†bloom,¬†or,¬†kissing¬†the¬†soft¬†air, The¬†leaves¬†above¬†their¬†sunny¬†palms¬†outspread. With¬†what¬†a¬†tender¬†and¬†impassioned¬†voice It¬†fills¬†the¬†nice¬†and¬†delicate¬†ear¬†of¬†thought, When¬†the¬†fast¬†ushering¬†star¬†of¬†morning¬†comes O’er-riding¬†the¬†gray¬†hills¬†with¬†golden¬†scarf; Or¬†when¬†the¬†cowled¬†and¬†dusky-sandalled¬†Eve, In¬†mourning¬†weeds,¬†from¬†out¬†the¬†western¬†gate, Departs¬†with¬†silent¬†pace!¬†¬†That¬†spirit¬†moves In¬†the¬†green¬†valley,¬†where¬†the¬†silver¬†brook, From¬†its¬†full¬†laver,¬†pours¬†the¬†white¬†cascade; And,¬†babbling¬†low¬†amid¬†the¬†tangled¬†woods, Slips¬†down¬†through¬†moss-grown¬†stones¬†with¬†endless¬†laughter. And¬†frequent,¬†on¬†the¬†everlasting¬†hills, Its¬†feet¬†go¬†forth,¬†when¬†it¬†doth¬†wrap¬†itself In¬†all¬†the¬†dark¬†embroidery¬†of¬†the¬†storm, And¬†shouts¬†the¬†stern,¬†strong¬†wind.¬†¬†And¬†here,¬†amid The¬†silent¬†majesty¬†of¬†these¬†deep¬†woods, lts¬†presence¬†shall¬†uplift¬†thy¬†thoughts¬†from¬†earth, As¬†to¬†the¬†sunshine¬†and¬†the¬†pure,¬†bright¬†air Their¬†tops¬†the¬†green¬†trees¬†lift.¬†¬†Hence¬†gifted¬†bards Have¬†ever¬†loved¬†the¬†calm¬†and¬†quiet¬†shades. For¬†them¬†there¬†was¬†an¬†eloquent¬†voice¬†in¬†all The¬†sylvan¬†pomp¬†of¬†woods,¬†the¬†golden¬†sun, The¬†flowers,¬†the¬†leaves,¬†the¬†river¬†on¬†its¬†way…

The old Thorn

There is a Thorn,‚ÄĒit looks so old, In truth, you’d find it hard to say How it could ever have been young, It looks so old and gray. Not higher than a two years child It stands erect,… Read More

A walk in Fairy Land

Spring is full of poetry. This is one of my favourite poems by William Shakespeare Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire, I do wander everywhere, Swifter than the… Read More

Go through that door –

As you sit on the hillside, or lie prone under the trees of the forest, or sprawl wet-legged by a mountain stream, the great door, that does not look like a door, opens. Stephen Graham