After giving up my job and moving to the countryside in search of a more responsible way of living, I intended to read a poem a day.
"I´ll have lots of time to do this," I thought.
I envisioned myself getting up early and working my way through "The New Oxford Book of English Verse" in no time at all. In reality, time has been its own master and after having the Internet installed (it comes to us across the hills by radio!), I have found myself going to bed later and unwilling to get out of bed on cold autumnal mornings.
Having said this, today was not one of those days! I was woken up by the cuckoo in the wood and Susie the cat returning for his breakfast, whilst the mist was still rising in the mountains. I opened my neglected book at this poem:
A Silent Love
Sir Edward Dyer (1543 - 1607)
The lowest trees have tops, the ant her gall,
The fly her spleen, the little spark his heat;
And slender hairs cast shadows, though but small,
And bees have stings, although they be not great;
Seas have their source, and so have shallow springs;
And love is love in beggars and in kings.
Where waters smoothest run, deep are the fords;
The dial stirs, yet none perceives it move;
The firmest faith is in the fewest words;
The turtles cannot sing, and yet they love;
True hearts have eyes and ears, no tongues to speak;
They hear, and see, and sigh, and then they break.
What beauty is contained in these words!
