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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=353445" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Midwinter's Day in the Botanic Gardens</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hippophae<br>with clusters of orange berries<br>on spiky twigs.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Set in this ancient, yellowstone wall, <br>which separates the formal walks<br>from the marsh garden to the south, <br>is the gateway (with gate long gone) .<br>At its base, nerines – all mauves and reds –<br>spill over on straight, green stalks.<br>Topping the pillars sit carved capitals<br>from which grin down and stare<br>weathered, lifeless heads, <br>green-grey<br>like the day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sandstone rockery is winter-bare, <br>the benches empty, paths sodden with trampled leaves; <br>the gunmetal surface of the rounded pool<br>dimpled with bedraggled water lilies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Squirrels chase, birds chatter amongst the pink viburnum<br>and the yellow Chinese winter jasmine, <br>with its tiny six-petalled flowers.<br>Pink and white prunus<br>clusters on spindly twigs<br>just as it does on Chinese porcelain.<br>Energetic buds of magnolia<br>press upwards and away<br>from the old, warped trunk<br>that shelters by the yellow wall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A yew tree, <br>planted during the civil war, <br>has marked the passage of time in inches<br>and now stands forty-odd feet high<br>topped by a first-year magpie.<br>Time is also tracked by deep bells put forth<br>by Magdalen’s pinnacled Tower to the north<br>and answered (out of time) <br>by Merton’s to the west.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet, today, nowhere among man’s handiwork<br>and mindwork<br>is man to be seen.<br>Magdalen Bridge is still and silent.<br>Punts empty and unmoving.<br>Blue and green. Dull and wet.<br>Waiting for summer.<br>The very images of men, the statues, <br>have disappeared from recessed arches<br>behind great terracotta pots<br>decorated with cornucopia.<br>To the east the Cherwell’s winter waters pass.<br>The cricket ground, <br>with its white and brown pavilion, <br>its motionless rollers painted bright blue<br>and green, sodden grass, <br>is empty under this dull and pewter-coloured sky, <br>the faintest luminescence shining through.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Over three centuries ago<br>this medicinal garden was created ‘to cure all ills.’<br>It has not yet quite accomplished that.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Brian+Taylor">Brian Taylor</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=353445" data-title="Midwinter's Day in the Botanic Gardens de Brian Taylor" data-description="Hippophae
with clusters of orange berries
on spiky twigs.

Set in this ancient, yellowstone wall, 
which separates the formal walks
from the marsh garden to the south, 
is the gateway (with gate long gone) .
At its base, nerines – all mauves and..."></div>
</div>
</div>