March roared in like a lion in Seattle, though it was hard to tell the difference between that lion and the February lion that roared in four weeks earlier. Lions of the weather variety do plenty of roaring in the Pacific Northwest. Wind, rain, roar, bluster, rain again, roar again.
Maybe what differentiates March from February is the display of primroses everywhere. How do those little flowers face all the roaring...yet remain so cheerful?
Walter de la Mare, and if you don't know his collection titled Peacock Pie, here's my advice: Find it, read it, and revel in it. And read the poems out loud. They were made to be heard.
Old Tillie Turveycombe
Sat to sew,
Just where a patch of fern did grow;
There as she yawned,
And yawn wide did she,
Floated some seed
Down her gull-e-t;
And look you once,
And look you twice,
Poor old Tille
Was gone in a trice.
But oh, when the wind
Do a-moaning come,
'Tis poor old Tillie
Sick for home;
And oh, when a voice
In the mist do sigh,
Old Tillie Turveycombe's
|Walter de la Mare...|
|...and Walter de la Mare.|
The Poetry Friday round-up this week is being hosted by Heidi Mordhorst at my juicy little universe. Head over there to see what other people are offering.
I plan to take your advice, Julie, and about Peacock Pie,I will "Find it, read it, and revel in it." Thanks for sharing Walter de la Mare's poetry with us today! =)ReplyDelete
An unfamiliar poet to me today, thanks for sharing this Julie and enriching my knowledge of poetry even more. :)ReplyDelete
I love the young/old pictures you post. And I am mighty jealous that you have FLOWERS already!!ReplyDelete
I only know a couple of Walter's poems, but he has such wonderful dialects and is such a wonderful writer that even Americans can read and enjoy. Thanks!ReplyDelete
We have primroses indoors here, and crocus out in the back yard. March is always something! Thanks for sharing Walter de la Mare with the wind and flowers. He is always a treat. I just adore that name - Old Tillie Turveycombe. I could say that all day long! :)ReplyDelete
Oh my, the muse of imagination set wing upon him. Thanks for posting something crafted indeed!ReplyDelete