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Posts Tagged ‘grasses’

Who, mid the grasses of the field
That spring beneath our careless feet,
First found the shining stems that yield
The grains of life-sustaining wheat: 

Who first, upon the furrowed land,
Strewed the bright grains to sprout, and grow,
And ripen for the reaper’s hand –
We know not, and we cannot know. 

But well we know the hand that brought
And scattered, far as sight can reach,
The seeds of free and living thought
On the broad field of modern speech. 

Mid the white hills that round us lie,
We cherish that Great Sower’s fame,
And, as we pile the sheaves on high,
With awe we utter Dante’s name. 

Six centuries, since the poet’s birth,
Have come and flitted o’er our sphere:
The richest harvest reaped on earth
Crowns the last century’s closing year.

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…………………………Allergies

I hab a liddle trouble wid my node and allergies;
I’m allergic do the grasses and de bollen ob de drees.
My throat will start do dickle and my node will start do run,
Den, coughing and a-wheezing, I’m nod habbing any fun.
I’m stobbed ub like de water in de back of Boulder Dam
But my node is flooding dissues like de sea floods Amsterdam.

It goes down in my donsils and id gurgles all around,
And oud my monkey boice comes and makes a fuddy sound.
So while I’m habbing trouble, de boor folks who hab do hear
Are habbing trouble also and deir trouble id sebere.
Bud as I wride my liddle poem, I dink of dose who read.
And wonder why my written words have also atrophied.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.

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