Hedge-hogs abound in my gardens and fields.
quote by Gilbert White
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cruel to hunt live hogs
fertilise into garden green
Hedge over neighbours
haiku by Ken e Hall
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Between neighbours' gardens a hedge is not amiss.
Lydia Puckett
Knowlt Hoheimer ran away to the war
The day before Curl Trenary
Swore out a warrant through Justice Arnett
For stealing hogs.
But that's not the reason he turned a soldier.
He caught me running with Lucius Atherton.
We quarreled and I told him never again
To cross my path.
Then he stole the hogs and went to the war --
Back of every soldier is a woman.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Hedge Layer-Gap Mender
Hedge layer, gap-mender
forged from frost and fissured trees;
your split hazel brash
a white slash against
black wintered leaves.
Rhythm of the billhook
rhythm of the fields
deft, quick, sure,
sharpening the air
with slash, cuts and
stakes spear shaped, stuck notched
crooked up, tawny bark
peeled green in places,
hint of dormant
summer traces.
Wood rips, wood rends, wood gives,
wood cries out as far as the far fields;
Welsh Cobbs black as stout
start as one, rising pall of horse breath
blots out the sallow-sun.
Hedge layer, gap-mender,
glove-less, hands seasoned old-hand;
resurrector, life pleacher,
Green Man for a modern era;
within your living walls
you weave the spring.
poem by Bob Dellar
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Feelings on Watching the Moon
Time hard year famine life land empty
Brothers live abroad each east west
Fields gardens few fall shield spear after
Bone flesh flow apart road road on
Hang shadow separate like 10,000 li goose
Leave root apart rise 9 autumn dishevelled
Together look bright moon should fall tear
One night home heart 5 place alike The times are hard: a year of famine has emptied the fields,
My brothers live abroad- scattered west and east.
Now fields and gardens are scarcely seen after the fighting,
Family members wander, scattered on the road.
Attached to shadows, like geese ten thousand li apart,
Or roots uplifted into September's autumn air.
We look together at the bright moon, and then the tears should fall,
This night, our wish for home can make five places one.
Field Of Joy
let's wander slowly through the fields
slowly slowly through the fields
i touch the leaves that touch the sky
just you and i through fields of joy
all trouble slowly fades away
slowly slowly fades away
i hold your hand inside my hand
across the land through fields of joy
the sound of music that we hear
the blend of colors throug the air
all cities, mountains disappear from view
all truth and beauty near to me and you
with you through the fields
with you through the fields
with you through the fields
the fields of joy
let's wander slowly through the fields
slowly slowly through the fields
i know our love will never die
just you and i
through fields of joy
through fields of joy
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Repentance
A PASTORAL BALLAD
THE fields which with covetous spirit we sold,
Those beautiful fields, the delight of the day,
Would have brought us more good than a burthen of gold,
Could we but have been as contented as they.
When the troublesome Tempter beset us, said I,
'Let him come, with his purse proudly grasped in his hand;
But, Allan, be true to me, Allan,--we'll die
Before he shall go with an inch of the land!'
There dwelt we, as happy as birds in their bowers;
Unfettered as bees that in gardens abide;
We could do what we liked with the land, it was ours;
And for us the brook murmured that ran by its side.
But now we are strangers, go early or late;
And often, like one overburthened with sin,
With my hand on the latch of the half-opened gate,
I look at the fields, but I cannot go in!
When I walk by the hedge on a bright summer's day,
Or sit in the shade of my grandfather's tree,
A stern face it puts on, as if ready to say,
'What ails you, that you must come creeping to me!'
With our pastures about us, we could not be sad;
Our comfort was near if we ever were crost;
But the comfort, the blessings, and wealth that we had,
We slighted them all,--and our birth-right was lost.
Oh, ill-judging sire of an innocent son
Who must now be a wanderer! but peace to that strain!
Think of evening's repose when our labour was done,
The sabbath's return; and its leisure's soft chain!
And in sickness, if night had been sparing of sleep,
How cheerful, at sunrise, the hill where I stood,
Looking down on the kine, and our treasure of sheep
That besprinkled the field; 'twas like youth in my blood!
Now I cleave to the house, and am dull as a snail;
And, oftentimes, hear the church-bell with a sigh,
That follows the thought--We've no land in the vale,
Save six feet of earth where our forefathers lie!
poem by William Wordsworth
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My parents moved to Los Angeles when I was really young, but I spent every summer with my grandparents, and I'd stay with my grandfather on the farm in Longview. He was retired from the railroad, and he had a small farm with some cows and some pigs. I remember part of my youth was feeding hogs and plowing fields and stuff, so that's a part of me.
quote by Forest Whitaker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Quit My Gardens, O Crows!
quit my gardens, o crows!
&
o noisy quarrelsome crows!
quit my gardens-
o birds of all feathers!
of different melodies!
of lonely bushes and thickets!
of far-away lands!
come here! visit me!
grace my gardens and groves!
nay, all yours, your heavens!
no, ours!
sing singly; sing in chorus!
melt in sorrowful strains;
and in joyous tunes!
but o hoarse-throated crows!
vacate my gardens
and retreat to the forest!
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Honour killing?
From your loins, bear this beautiful fruit
Surely never tastes bitter, but her suitor didn't suit
From your guarded gardens to our fields spread vast
She grew on those borders with a split in the cast
A heart from the fields had her love buried deep
and that crack in the cast Is where two cultures meet
Your unnatural actions, twisted, evil, inhumane
Understanding escapes me...she put shame upon your name?
I hope you both rot for the gift you ripped apart
Your kind god is forgiving..but for this he has no heart! !
poem by Stevie Taite
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Laburnums
OVER old walls the Laburnums
hang cones of fire;
Laburnums that grow out of old
mould in old gardens:
Old maids and old men who have savings or pensions have
Shuttered themselves in the pales of old gardens.
The gardens grow wild; out of their mould the Laburnums
Draw cones of fire.
And we, who've no lindens, no palms, no cedars of Lebanon,
Rejoice you have gardens with mould, old men and old maids:
The bare and the dusty streets have now the Laburnums,
Have now cones of fire!
poem by Padraic Colum
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Strawberry Fields Forever
Let me take you down, cause Im going to
Strawberry fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry fields forever
Living is easy with eyes closed
Misunderstanding all you see
Its getting hard to be someone, but it all works out
It doesnt matter much to me
Let me take you down, cause Im going to
Strawberry fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry fields forever
No one, I think, is in my tree
I mean, it must be high or low
That is, you cant, you know, tune in, but its alright
That is, I think its not too bad
Let me take you down, cause Im going to
Strawberry fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry fields forever
Always, no, sometimes, think its me
But, you know, I know when its a dream
I think, er, no, I mean, er, yes, but its all wrong
That is, I think I disagree
Let me take you down, cause Im going to
Strawberry fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry fields forever
Strawberry fields forever
Strawberry fields forever
(cranberry sauce)
song performed by by Lennon John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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These gardens may be called the gardens of the respectable working classes.
quote by Robert Fortune
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Field Path
The beams in blossom with their spots of jet
Smelt sweet as gardens wheresoever met;
The level meadow grass was in the swath;
The hedge briar rose hung right across the path,
White over with its flowers--the grass that lay
Bleaching beneath the twittering heat to hay
Smelt so deliciously, the puzzled bee
Went wondering where the honey sweets could be;
And passer-bye along the level rows
Stoopt down and whipt a bit beneath his nose.
poem by John Clare
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XXXIII
REMINDING HER OF A PROMISE
Oh, Juliet, we have quarrelled with our fate,
And fate has struck us. Wherefore do we cry?
We prayed for liberty, and now too late
Find liberty is this, to say ``good--bye.''
The Winter which we loved not has gone by,
And Spring is come. The gardens, which were bare
When we first wandered through them, you and I,
The prisoners of our own vain wishes, are
Now full of golden flowers. The very lane
Down to the sea is green. The cactus hedge
We saw cut down has sprouted new again,
And swallows have their nests on the cliff's edge
Where we so often sat and dared complain
Because our joy was new, and called it pain.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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A Tenant of Mrs. Van Kleeck
Translation of a letter from a tenant of Mrs. Van Kleeck to that lady, dated January 9, 1787
My very good landlady, Mistress Van Kleeck,
(For the tears that o'erwhelm me I scarcely can speak)
I know that I promis'd you hogs two or three
(But who knows his destiny? Certain not me!)
That I promis'd three hogs I don't mean to deny
(I can prove that I had five or six upon sty.)
Three hogs did I say? Three sows I say then
'Pon honour I ne'er had a male upon pen.
Well Madam, the long and the short of the clatter
For mumbling & mincing will not better the matter;
And murder and truth, my dear mammy wd say
By some means or other forever saw day;
And Daddy himself, as we chop'd in the wood,
Would often observe that lying wasn't good.
Tell truth, my sweet fellow, no matter who feels it,
It ne'er can do hurt to the man who reveals it.
But stop! While my Daddy and Mammy's the subject
I am running aside the original object --
The sows, my sweet madam, the sows I repeat,
Which you and your household expected to eat,
Instead of attending their corn and their swill
Gave way to an ugly he-sow's wicked will.
When 'twill end your good ladyship need not be told,
For Nature is still as she hath been of old,
And when he cries YES mortal may not cry NO -
So Madam, farewell, with my holliday bow.
poem by Major Henry Livingston Jr.
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Strawberry Field Forever (Emi-remix 15.12.66)
LET ME TAKE YOU DOWN
CAUSE IM GOING TO STRAWBERRY FIELDS
NOTHING IS REAL
AND NOTHING TO GET HUNG ABOUT
STRAWBERRY FIELDS FOREVER
LIVING IS EASY WITH EYES CLOSED
MISUNDERSTANDING ALL YOU SEE
ITS GETTING HARD TO BE SOMEONE
BUT IT ALL WORKS OUT
IT DOESNT MATTER MUCH TO ME
LET ME TAKE YOU DOWN
CAUSE IM GOING TO STRAWBERRY FIELDS...
NO ONE I THINK IS IN MY TREE
I MEAN IT MUST BE HIGH OR LOW
THAT IS YOU CANT YOU KNOW TUNE IN
BUT ITS ALL RIGHT
THAT IS I THINK ITS NOT TOO BAD
LET ME TAKE YOU DOWN
CAUSE IM GOING TO STRAWBERRY FIELDS...
ALWAYS, NO, SOMETIMES, THINK ITS ME
BUT YOU KNOW I KNOW WHEN ITS A DREAM
I THINK, ER ,NO I MEAN, ER, YES
BUT ITS ALL SO WRONG
THAT IS I THINK I DISAGREE
LET ME TAKE YOU DOWN
CAUSE IM GOING TO STRAWBERRY FIELDS
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fields Of Gold
Youll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
Youll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in the fields of gold
So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold
Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
Well forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in the fields of gold
See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that Ive broken
But I swear in the days still left
Well walk in the fields of gold
Well walk in the fields of gold
Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
Youll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Before The Fair
'Lost,' 'lost,' the beeves and the bullocks,
The cattle men sell and buy,
Crowded upon the fair green,
Low to the lightless sky.
'Live,' 'live,' and 'Here,' 'here,' the blackbird
From the top of the bare ash-tree,
Over the acres whistles
With beak of yellow blee.
And climbing, turning, and climbing
His little stair of sound,
'Content,' 'content,' from the low hedge
The redbreast sings in a round.
And I who hear that hedge-song
Will fare with all the rest,
With thoughts of lust and labour,
And bargain in my breast.
The bare hedge bright with rain-drops
That have not fallen down,
The golden-crowded whin-bush
Nor know these things my own!
poem by Padraic Colum
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Lost Horizons
The last horizons I can see are filled with bars and factories
And in them all we fight to stay awake...
Drink enough of anything to make this world look new again
Drunk drunk drunk in the gardens and the graves
She had nothing left to say so she said she loved me
I stood there grateful for the lie...
Drink enough of anything to make this girl look new again
Drunk drunk drunk in the gardens and the graves
Turn summer trees to bones and ice
Turn insect songs against the night
With words we build and words we break
Im drunk drunk drunk in the gardens and the graves...
Drink enough of anything to make myself look new again
Drunk drunk drunk in the gardens and the graves
song performed by by Gin Blossoms
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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