I have been dipping into Lucy Newlyn's Vital Stream and loved this sonnet for 28th May, which is based upon Dorothy Wordsworth's diary entry, for 28th May 1802.
All morning William has been walking
Backward, forward, hammering at a poem
That haunts him - muttering, as if talking
To someone who teases, tasks, or taunts him.
In the orchard, poised and balancing
On spindly branches that tremble, twist and bend,
The bullfinches are tumbling, dancing,
As if their acrobatic show will never end.
All around them under the apple trees
Lie blossoms from the twigs that they have shaken,
Newly fallen with a scattering of leaves.
A thick clump of gowans I have taken
From the lakeside is drooping now and fading;
Wild columbines are coming into beauty,
Vetches abundant, blossoming and seeding.
The air is mild, at evening it rains sweetly.
Lucy Newlyn's sonnet is beautiful, but I think that Dorothy Wordsworth's prose writing is even more beautiful and mesmeric, in its itemising of plants, flowers and birds:
...the young bullfinches in their party-coloured raiment bustle about among the blossoms and poise themselves like wire dancers or tumblers, shaking the twigs and dashing off the blossoms. There is yet one primrose in the orchard - the stitchwort is fading - the wild columbines are coming into beauty - the vetches are in abundance blossoming and seeding. Their pretty little waxy looking dial-like yellow flower, the speedwell, and some others whose names I do not yet know. The wild columbines are coming into beauty - some of the gowans fading. In the garden we have lilies and many other flowers. The scarlet beans are up in crowds....It has rained sweetly for two and half hours - the air is very mild. The heckberry blossoms are dropping off fast, almost gone - barberries are in beauty - snowballs coming forward - May roses blossoming.
Both are wonderful expositions of everything that is wonderful about a May evening. Certainly during these strange times nature is in full bloom.
All morning William has been walking
Backward, forward, hammering at a poem
That haunts him - muttering, as if talking
To someone who teases, tasks, or taunts him.
In the orchard, poised and balancing
On spindly branches that tremble, twist and bend,
The bullfinches are tumbling, dancing,
As if their acrobatic show will never end.
All around them under the apple trees
Lie blossoms from the twigs that they have shaken,
Newly fallen with a scattering of leaves.
A thick clump of gowans I have taken
From the lakeside is drooping now and fading;
Wild columbines are coming into beauty,
Vetches abundant, blossoming and seeding.
The air is mild, at evening it rains sweetly.
Lucy Newlyn's sonnet is beautiful, but I think that Dorothy Wordsworth's prose writing is even more beautiful and mesmeric, in its itemising of plants, flowers and birds:
...the young bullfinches in their party-coloured raiment bustle about among the blossoms and poise themselves like wire dancers or tumblers, shaking the twigs and dashing off the blossoms. There is yet one primrose in the orchard - the stitchwort is fading - the wild columbines are coming into beauty - the vetches are in abundance blossoming and seeding. Their pretty little waxy looking dial-like yellow flower, the speedwell, and some others whose names I do not yet know. The wild columbines are coming into beauty - some of the gowans fading. In the garden we have lilies and many other flowers. The scarlet beans are up in crowds....It has rained sweetly for two and half hours - the air is very mild. The heckberry blossoms are dropping off fast, almost gone - barberries are in beauty - snowballs coming forward - May roses blossoming.
Both are wonderful expositions of everything that is wonderful about a May evening. Certainly during these strange times nature is in full bloom.