A soft day, thank God!
A wind from the south
With a honey'd mouth;
A scent of drenching leaves,
Briar and beech and lime,
White elderflower and thyme,
And the soaking grass smells sweet,
Crushed by my two bare feet,
While the rain drips,
Drips, drips, drips from the eaves.
A soft day, thank God!
The hills wear a shroud
Of silver cloud;
The web the spider weaves
Is a glittering net;
The woodland path is wet,
And the soaking earth smells sweet
Under my two bare feet,
And the rain drips,
Drips, drips, drips from the leaves.
Winifred Mary Letts (1882 - 1972)
Anglo-Irish (but mainly Irish) poet.
It sounds like a grand soft day!
ReplyDeleteSo good I read it 3 times!
ReplyDeleteI could smell it and feel the softness. :-)
What a poet can do with words. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteAh, the memories of a delightfully soft day as I walked the roads of Athenry. Whadda rush! Thanks for posting that.
ReplyDeleteNice poem. I like the wind from the south with a honey'd mouth....
ReplyDeletelight wind, gentle wet, soft gray - even without a poet's fine words the day would be beautiful
ReplyDeleteI remember many soft days in the hills of Wicklow. Long walks and coming back to a turf fire and pots of tea. I could eat a whole loaf of that bread with raisins, I forget the name. Slathered with butter of course.
ReplyDeleteah, it was called Maltana. so good.
ReplyDeleteIt's a lovely poem, WWW, as only an Irishman could write.
ReplyDeleteLovely writing www - thank you!
ReplyDelete