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‘November’ by John Clare
A longer poem than usual, but I love it. It’s worth reading to the end, if you have the time! The landscape sleeps in mist from morn till noon; And, if the sun looks through, tis with a face Beamless and pale and round, as if the moon, When done the journey of her nightly race, Had found him sleeping, and supplied his place. For days the shepherds in the fields may be, Nor mark a patch of sky – blindfold they trace, The plains, that seem without a bush or tree, Whistling aloud by guess, to flocks they cannot see. The timid hare seems half its fears to lose,…
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Six more of Scotland’s haunted castles
Scotland will never run short of haunted castles. Since Hallowe’en is approaching, I wondered if you’d like to tiptoe around a few of them with me…
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Midsummer’s Eve
Looking for some words to celebrate midsummer, I found this lovely extract which casts a magic spell… “Out of this wood do not desire to go: Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no. I am a spirit of no common rate; The summer still doth tend upon my state; And I do love thee: therefore, go with me; I’ll give thee fairies to attend on thee, And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep, And sing while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep.” Titania, ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ Photo © Colin Woolf
The Hazel Tree
by Jo Woolf
