Friday 10 February 2012: Rose
It's been an overcast, grey, drizzly day that descended into rain. Had to rush around looking for an emergency blip this evening before Immy and I went out to the cinema and found this beautiful, red velvety rose covered in crystalline raindrops. I know that I may be rather 'over-roseing the bouquet' having now blipped roses thrice in the last four days; however I make no apology for this as it is such a novelty for me to have so many of them in bloom all at once in my garden. In Bahrain, we have a single pink rose bush that struggles valiantly to flower for a short period, producing one or two blooms at a time.
I'm afraid I can't think of anything very interesting to say this evening, so I've pulled Mr William Butler Yeats from the shelf and decided to give you one of my favourite of his poems, for no reason other than that it's from his collection of twenty-two poems known as The Rose, published in 1893 (so continuing the Victorian theme from yesterday, really!) I've always loved the sound of the 'bee-loud glade' and can picture the small cabin very clearly.
The Lake Isle of Innisfree
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.