In an English Country Garden

In an English Country Garden

(Traditional)

How many kinds of sweet flowers grow
In an English country garden?
We'll tell you now of some that we know.
Those we miss you'll surely pardon.
Daffodils, heart's ease and flox,
Meadowsweet and lady smocks,
Gentian, lupine and tall hollihocks,
Roses, foxgloves, snowdrops, blue forget-me-nots
In an English country garden.

How many insects come here and go
In an English country garden?
We'll tell you now of some that we know.
Those we miss you'll surely pardon.
Fireflies, moths, gnats and bees,
Spiders climbing in the trees,
Butterflies drift in the gentle breeze,
There are snakes, ants that sting,
And other creeping things,
In an English country garden.

How many songbirds fly to and fro
In an English country garden?
We'll tell you now of some that we know.
Those we miss you'll surely pardon.
Bobolink, cuckoo and quail,
Tanager and cardinal,
Bluebird, lark, thrush and nightingale,
There is joy in the spring
When the birds begin to sing
In an English country garden.

How many kinds of sweet flowers grow
In an English country garden?
We'll tell you now of some that we know.
Those we miss you'll surely pardon.
Daffodils, heart's ease and flox,
Meadowsweet and lady smocks,
Gentain, lupine and tall hollihocks,
Roses, foxgloves, snowdrops, blue forget-me-nots
In an English country garden.

Yuletide Joy

 

THE OXEN

 

by Thomas Hardy

 

Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.

"Now they are all on their knees,"

An elder said as we sat in a flock

By the embers in hearthside ease.

 

We pictured the meek mild creatures where

They dwelt in their strawy pen,

Nor did it occur to one of us there

To doubt they were kneeling then.

 

So fair a fancy few would weave

In these years! Yet, I feel,

If someone said on Christmas Eve,

"Come; see the oxen kneel!

 

"In the lonely barton by yonder coomb

Our childhood used to know."

I should go with him in the gloom,

Hoping it might be so.

 

 

CHRISTMAS SONG

 

(Traditional)

 

The trees are all bare not a leaf to be seen

And the meadows their beauty have lost.

Now winter has come and 'tis cold for man and beast,

And the streams they are,

And the streams they are all fast bound down with frost. 

 

'Twas down in the farmyard where the oxen feed on straw,

They send forth their breath like steam.

Sweet Betsy the milkmaid now quickly she must go,

For flakes of ice she finds,

For flakes of ice she finds a-floating on her cream.

 

'Tis now all the small birds to the barn-door fly for food

And gently they rest on the spray.

A-down the plantation the hares do search for food,

And lift their footsteps sure,

Lift their footsteps sure for fear they do betray.

 

Now Christmas is come and our song is almost done

For we soon shall have the turn of the year.

So fill up your glasses and let your health go round,

For I wish you all,

For I wish you all a joyful New Year.

 

THE YULE DAYS

 

(Traditional)

 

The king sent his lady on the first Yule day,

A papingo-aye;

Wha learns my carol and carries it away!

 

The king sent his lady on the second Yule day,

Three partridges, a papingo-aye;

Wha learns my carol and carries it away!

 

The king sent his lady on the third Yule day,

Three plovers, three partridges, a papingo-aye;

Wha learns my carol and carries it away!

 

The king sent his lady on the fourth Yule day,

A goose that was gray,

Three plovers, three partridges, a papingo-aye;

Wha learns my carol and carries it away!

 

The king sent his lady on the fifth Yule day,

Three starlings, a goose that was gray,

Three plovers, three partridges, and a papingo-aye;

Wha learns my carol and carries it away!

 

A king sent his lady on the sixth Yule day,

Three goldspinks, three starlings, a goose that was gray,

Three plovers, three partridges, and a papingo-aye;

Wha learns my carol and carries it away!

 

A king sent his lady on the seventh Yule day,

A bull that was brown, three goldspinks, three starlings,

A goose that was gray,

Three plovers, three partridges, and a papingo-aye;

Wha learns my carol and carries it away!

 

The king sent his lady on the eighth Yule day,

Three ducks a-merry laying, a bull that was brown --

                                                                      [the rest to follow as before]

 

The king sent his lady on the ninth Yule day,

Three swans a-merry swimming --

                                         [as before]

 

The king sent his lady on the tenth Yule day,

An Arabian baboon --

                                         [as before]

 

The king sent his lady on the eleventh Yule day,

Three hinds a-merry hunting --

                                         [as before]

 

The king sent his lady on the twelfth Yule day,

Three maids a-merry dancing --

                                         [as before]

 

The king sent his lady on the thirteenth Yule day,

Three stalks o' merry corn, three maids a-merry dancing,

Three hinds a-merry hunting, an Arabian baboon,

Three swans a-merry swimming,

Three ducks a-merry swimming,

Three ducks a-merry laying, a bull that was brown,

Three goldspinks, three starlings, a goose that was gray,

Three plovers, three partridges, a papingo-aye;

Wha learns my carol and carries it away?

 

 

Yule: Christmas,  papingo-aye: peacock,  goldspink: goldfinch

 

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

BLESSED YULE!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

 

Dawn Pisturino



Ode to the West Wind

 

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

 

O wild west Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,

Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead

Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,

 

Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,

Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou,

Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed

 

The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low,

Each like a corpse within its grave, until

Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow

Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill

(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)

With living hues and odors plain and hill:

 

Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;

Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!

 

Thou on whose stream, mid the steep sky's commotion,

Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed,

Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean,

 

Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread

On the blue surface of thine aery surge,

Like the bright hair uplifted from the head

 

Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge

Of the horizon to the zenith's height,

The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge

 

Of the dying year, to which this closing night

Will be the dome of a vast sepulcher,

Vaulted with all thy congregated might

 

Of vapors, from whose solid atmosphere

Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst: oh, hear!

 

Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams

The blue Mediterranean, where he lay,

Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams,

 

Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay,

And saw in sleep old palaces and towers

Quivering within the wave's intenser day,

 

All overgrown with azure moss and flowers

So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou

For whose path the Atlantic's level powers

 

Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below

The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear

The sapless foliage of the ocean, know

 

Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear,

And tremble and despoil themselves: oh, hear!

 

If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear;

If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee;

A wave to paint beneath thy power, and share

 

The impulse of thy strength, only less free

Than thou, O uncontrollable! If even

I were as in my boyhood, and could be

 

The comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven,

As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed

Scarce seemed a vision; I would ne'er have striven

 

As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.

Oh, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!

I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!

 

A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed

One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.

 

Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:

What if my leaves are falling like its own!

The tumult of thy mighty harmonies

 

Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,

Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,

My Spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!

 

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe

Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!

And, by the incantation of this verse,

 

Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth

Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!

Be through my lips to unawakened earth

 

The trumpet of a prophecy! O, Wind,

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

 

BIO: Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822) attended Oxford but was expelled for circulating his pamphlet, The Necessity of Atheism.  He married Harriet Westbrook in Scotland, where he was heavily influenced by William Godwin. He became intimate with Godwin's daughter, Mary, and married her after Harriet committed suicide. They moved to Italy, where he met Lord Byron and wrote the bulk of his works.  In 1822, he drowned in the Bay of Spezia near Livorno.



Halloween Limericks

 

Limericks by Dawn Pisturino

 

Spiders

 

A girl who ate spiders for lunch,

Found shiny black widows to munch.

The poison contained in their bodies remained,

Giving that girl quite a punch!

 

July 12, 2011

 

More Spiders

 

A girl who liked spiders to eat,

Found poisonous spiders a treat.

Their sweet-tasting nectar

Began to infect her,

Turning her into dead meat!

 

July 13, 2011

 

Spider Cider

 

A girl who liked spiders inside her,

Washed them down with a very fine cider.

"Two parts cyanide makes them slither and slide,"

She wrote to her secret confider.

 

July 13, 2011

 

The Sorcerer from Beijing

 

A sorcerer born in Beijing,

Found a magical jade dragon ring.

It breathed out green smoke,

Transforming that bloke

To a blood-thirsty cannibal king!

 

July 14, 2011

 

Killers

 

A killer rampaging a town,

Ran into a carnival clown.

The clown drew a knife

And took that man's life,

Then started a spree of his own!

 

July 16, 2011

 

The Witch and the Burglar

 

A witch flying home on her broom

Spied a burglar trashing her room.

"I'll get you for this!" she said with a hiss.

His head was soon found in Khartoum.

 

July 17, 2011

 

An Uppity Cat

 

A cat who liked veggies and cheese,

Refused to eat mouse canapés.

"I just can't abide that tough, hairy hide.

I'd rather eat onions and peas!"

 

July 16, 2011

 

A Nasty Old Gnome

 

A nasty old gnome name o' Bill

Liked to puncture old teeth with a drill.

He gathered some bones from a graveyard he owns,

But that skeleton wouldn't sit still!

 

February 5, 2012

 

Copyright 2011-2014 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

 

Visit my website: http://dawnpisturino.org

 

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Dirty Donald

 

Poem by Dawn Pisturino

 

Artwork by Jason Smith

 

Dirty Donald!

His hair, full of lice,

Grows down to his shoulders,

A haven for mice.

 

His teeth are all rotten,

Mildewed and black,

His tongue is so long,

He could pass for a yak.

 

His breath stinks of corpses

Dug fresh from their graves,

A delicate morsel

He constantly craves.

 

He glares at the ravens,

Surrounding his head,

With murderous eyes,

Pronouncing them dead.

 

Then yanks out their feathers

And nibbles their toes,

Lining them up

In neat little rows.

 

His clothes are so tattered,

The buzzards all say,

"What a fine looking fellow!

Let's eat him today!"

 

July 3, 2011

 

Published on Underneath the Juniper Tree, July 17, 2011. Read it here.

 

Published in the August 2011 issue of Underneath the Juniper Tree. Read it here.

 

Copyright 2011-2014 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Hist Whist

 

"hist whist" by e.e. cummings,

illustrated by Deborah Kogan Ray

 

 

hist      whist

little ghostthings

tip-toe

twinkle-toe

 

little twitchy

witches and tingling

goblins

hob-a-nob      hob-a-nob

 

little hoppy happy

toad in tweeds

tweeds

little itchy mousies

 

with scuttling

eyes      rustle and run      and

hidehidehide

whisk

 

whisk      look out for the old woman

with the wart on her nose

what she'll do to yer

nobody knows

 

for she knows the devil      ooch

the devil      ouch

the devil

ach      the great

 

green

dancing

devil

devil

 

devil

devil

 

      wheeEEE

 

(from his collection, chansons innocentes)

 

Edward Estlin Cummings, better known as e.e. cummings, was born in Cambridge, Massachusetts in 1894 and became renowned for his experimentation with poetic language. He died in 1962.

 

 

The Return

 

by Ezra Pound

 

THE RETURN

 

See, they return; ah, see the tentative

Movements, and the slow feet,

The trouble in the pace and the uncertain

Wavering!

 

See, they return, one, and by one,

With fear, as half-awakened;

As if the snow should hesitate

And murmur in the wind,

and half turn back;

These were the "Wing'd-with-Awe,"

inviolable.

 

Gods of the winged shoe!

With them the silver hounds,

sniffing the trace of air!

 

Haie! Haie!

These were the swift to harry;

These the keen-scented;

These were the souls of blood.

 

Slow on the leash,

pallid the leash-men!

 

(1913)

 

THE COMING OF WAR: ACTAEON

 

An image of Lethe,

and the fields

Full of faint light

but golden,

Gray cliffs,

and beneath them

A sea

Harsher than granite,

unstill, never ceasing;

High forms

with the movement of gods,

Perilous aspect;

And one said:

"This is Actaeon."

Actaeon of golden greaves!

Over fair meadows,

Over the cool face of that field,

Unstill, ever moving,

Host of an ancient people,

The silent cortege.

 

(1915)

 

BIO:  Born in Hailey, Idaho on 30 October 1885, Ezra Pound taught at Wabash College for two years, until he became the London editor of "The Little Review." He was immensely interested in travel and poetry, especially Chinese and Japanese poetry. These Eastern influences are clearly discernible in his own poetry, which is known for its clarity, precision, and economy of language. In 1924 he moved to Italy, where he became involved in Mussolini's fascist movement. When he returned to the U.S. in 1945, he was arrested for treason.  Acquitted in 1946, he was declared mentally ill and committed to St. Elizabeth Hospital in Washington, D.C., where he remained until 1958.  Ho profoundly influenced the writing and careers of such noted poets as W.B. Yeats, Robert Frost, William Carlos William, and T.S. Eliot.