Hey Blog! This post is about two things, and one often inspires the other! Welcome to a blog full of… floral poetry? Poetic florality? Let’s just say flowers and poems!
I can’t believe it – end of March already, a quarter of the year gone! This means spring is springing; the “toad season”, when amphibians are on the move (requiring dedicated volunteers to go out and help them cross the road) is in full swing; and for the purposes of this post, the first flowers have bloomed. Snowdrops from January are nearly finished, and daffodils are at their height. Bluebells will be along in April, filling my local wood with a carpet fit for a faery queen, or for you to go and marvel at. There is nothing else in the world that does what bluebells do, but they are fragile; just treading on them can knock them back a whole year, though they can still spread though bulbs. These beautiful plants are also poisonous if eaten, so don’t let your toddler in unsupervised!
All the flowers mentioned above have all had poems written about them, but a poem written about one of them is especially famous. You might have guessed – yes, Grandad, it is Daffodils by William Wordsworth. Wordsworth, born in the 1700s, was at one point Poet Laureate – which leads on nicely to what comes next!
The current poet laureate is Simon Armitage. He is probably one of the most pressured poet laureates in history, as he has had to write poems for both Queen Elizabeth’s funeral and King Charles’s coronation, besides others! The most recent of his poems is one titled Plum tree among the Skyscrapers, and tells of the journey through history of the Plum tree (Prunus domestica), as she ‘travelled for years’ and ‘now here she is … in a city square’. For the full poem, see here. In response, I wrote my own poem, inspired by it, and I thought you might like to read it:
Hawthorn
Green-leaved boughs in summer,
To the russet fruits of autumn,
Grey-green thorns in winter,
And the white blossoms in spring,
Fruit and thorns are one and all,
To the faery tree we sing.
.
Of ye who stand before the gate,
Are any like to thee?
In maiden white yet the thorn of light,
With lichen and soft moss of green,
Guardian of wrong and right,
Daughter of the May Queen!
.
Green-leaved boughs in summer, etc.
.
Creeper of the hedgerows,
Prickly and gnarled,
All along the field side fence
Branches old and worn,
Stunted with the weight of years,
Old when I was born.
.
Green-leaved boughs in summer, etc.
.
Blossom flourishes like snow,
In hedges old and lawns,
From beside a fieldline wall,
Drifting petals softly fall,
Circled with a crown of thorns,
Ancient Spring and Lord-of-all!
.
Green leaved boughs in summer,
To the russet fruits of autumn,
Grey-green thorns in winter,
And the white blossoms in spring,
Fruit and thorns are one and all,
To the faery tree we sing.
I like it as it tells of past and future, and connects the two. It’s meant to be sung, but can be spoken. And of course, it’s all about the hawthorn blossoms, which are beautiful flowers. The ‘gate’ in the poem references the gate to the underworld, which the tree stood at in mythology. They have a strong connection to the faery folk, hope, and Christ’s crown of thorns was said to be made of it. Apparently, the DeLorean company got bad luck because they cut down a hawthorn tree to make room for a factory – maybe they should have made a cutting, thereby keeping it alive, and appeasing the faeries! Also, you can only cut of the wood in May, but remember, don’t kill it!
I hoped you liked this. Look out for flowers, be careful with the faeries, and read poetry. See you soon!