Wild Sorrel.
More beauty to the earth from which it springs,
And dying will enrich; nor birds that sings
But brings fresh melody. Nature has clad
Her whole domain with gifts to make us glad, 5
If we will learn to use them. As I pass
Along the meadows, waving ’midst the grass
I make a simple herb which when a lad
I liked to eat. Its acid used to cool
My heated mouth in summer; and I like, 10
E’en in old age, to see its ruddy spike
Of simple flowers, as when on leaving school
I sought its leaves as salad. Sour Docks then
We call’d what now is Sorrel to us men.
George Markham Tweddell
[Sonnets on Trees and Flowers, p. 37]
No comments:
Post a Comment