John Milton | The Poetry Foundation

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https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/john-milton

the volume were composed in Stuart England but published after the onset of the English Civil War. Furthermore, Milton may have begun to compose one or more of his mature works—Paradise LostParadise Regained, and Samson Agonistes—in the 1640s, but they were completed and revised much later and not published until after the Restoration.

This literary genius whose fame and influence are second to none, and on whose life and works more commentary is written than on any author except Shakespeare, was born at 6:30 in the morning on 9 December 1608. His parents were John Milton , Sr., and Sara Jeffrey Milton , and the place of birth was the family home, marked with the sign of the spread eagle, on Bread Street, London. Three days later, at the parish church of All Hallows, also on Bread Street, he was baptized into the Protestant faith of the Church of England. Other children of John and Sara who survived infancy included Anne, their oldest child, and Christopher, seven years younger than John. At least three others died shortly after birth, in infancy or in early childhood. Edward Phillips, Anne’s son by her first husband, was tutored by Milton and later wrote a biography of his renowned uncle, which was published in Milton’s Letters of State (1694). Christopher, in contrast to his older brother on all counts, became a Roman Catholic, a Royalist, and a lawyer.

Milton’s father was born in 1562 in Oxfordshire; his father, Richard, was a Catholic who decried the Reformation. When John Milton, Sr., expressed sympathy for what his father viewed as Protestant heresy, their disagreements resulted in the son’s disinheritance. He left home and traveled to London, where he became a scrivener and a professional composer responsible for more than twenty musical pieces. As a scrivener he performed services comparable to a present-day attorney’s assistant, law stationer, and notary. Among the documents that a scrivener executed were wills, leases, deeds, and marriage agreements. Through such endeavors and by his practice of money lending, the elder Milton accumulated a handsome estate, which enabled him to provide a splendid formal education for his son John and to maintain him during several years of private study. In “Ad Patrem” (To His Father), a Latin poem composed probably in 1637-1638, Milton celebrated his “revered father.” He compares his father’s talent at musical composition, harmonizing sounds to numbers and modulating the voices of singers, to his own dedication to the muses and to his developing artistry as a poet. The father’s “generosities” and “kindnesses” enabled the young man to study Greek, Latin, Hebrew, French, and Italian.”

Little is known of Sara Jeffrey, but in Pro Propulo Anglicano Defensio Secunda (The Second Defense of the People of England, 1654) Milton refers to the “esteem” in which his mother was held and to her reputation for almsgiving in their neighborhood. John Aubrey, in biographical notes made in 1681

Cracks in the payment

Cracks in the pavement
Look like rivers approaching
an estuary.

Natural beauty,
the shapes and forms wandering,
sanctifies the road.

Cherry trees branches,
A wide canopy of leaves.
Blossom blows away

Sung geometry,
held still and made eternal,
Catches at my throat

You may be in emotional pain without realising

brown and gray deer
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I thought this looked interesting but have not studied it closely.The  dangers of excess spirituality are well known already

20 not so obvious indicators of emotional pain and psychological suffering

 

“The spiritual dimension of existence is as important as the physical, emotional and intellectual one. A healthy human spirit is expressed in an unshakeable trust in yourself and life, in seeing life as a gift, having the wisdom to deal with negative aspects of life, developing basic goodness and a loving nature, and a firm decision to leave a positive legacy behind for your descendants.

Spirituality can also include healthy religious beliefs without any fanaticism, having a connection with nature, and dealing with philosophical questions of existence at some point in life.

But people who are emotionally hurting can be drawn to spirituality for other, less sensible reasons. It can feel so good to be part of a larger whole, a larger plan.

If you felt alienated from your family and home, spirituality might seem like a shelter where you belong to something bigger than life; you might finally feel like there’s a greater plan for you. Spirituality can give you a poor consolation that you have a home.

Consequently, instead of developing inner strength and trust in yourself, you start seeking explanations for human pain, the will to live and hope for fortune in doubtful spiritual guidance like tarot, astrology, numerology and other types of fortunetelling. Any fanatic religion might give the same false comfort.

You give your personal power and proactive approach away to an external force, hoping to hear favorable outcomes for yourself. The less you trust in yourself, the more you need such external crutches.

As mentioned in the beginning, a spiritual dimension of life is important. And there might be a greater plan for you and all of us. Having such faith in life is important and far from problematic.

The problem occurs when you start using spirituality to compensate for inner insecurities, hoping that some greater force will take care of every problem in your life. The problem occurs when you start to only daydream and lose yourself in spiritual dimensions, instead of acting and improving yourself.

Spirituality can also quickly become a poor consolation for suffering. Suffering is the pain of you wanting the world to be different than it is. Part of being an emotionally healthy person is finding a way to accept reality as it is and deal with the problems life serves you.

Every human being also has the opportunity to co-create a fairer reality for generations to come. But running away from reality in spiritual dimensions can lead only to more pain.

2. SUPERSTITIOUS BELIEFS

Superstitious beliefs take second place right after spirituality. Believing that number 13, breaking a mirror or walking under a ladder will bring you bad luck, or that finding a horseshoe will bring you good luck has no connection with reality.

There’s not even any scientific study that would support a significant extraordinary effect of the moon on human behavior.

If your mind gets obsessed with waiting for what kind of bad luck will hit you after a black cat crosses the road, that definitely indicates emotional lability and a mind that isn’t strong enough. Bad things do happen, but not because of the number 13, horseshoes or black cats.

Sometimes they happen because of your own stupid decisions and sometimes just because of how life is designed – we all get lucky or unlucky sometimes.

The majority of generations in human history faced some kind of a hardship like wars, famine, natural disasters, and so on. And there is no human alive who would live decades without problems, obstacles and personal struggles.

In the past few centuries, we have made life much more comfortable, but struggle is still a part of life. Without bad things, there would also be no good to experience. It’s how life is designed. You can’t have more fortune or misfortune by following some superficial beliefs.

The best thing you can do is to develop inner strength and unshakable trust in yourself that you’ll face anything life serves you, no matter what it is.  By adopting that positive outlook and expecting good things, you can focus your mind on the positive, which absolutely leads to a better quality of life.

3. EXCESSIVE ALTRUISM

A similar sign of emotional pain to questionable aspects of spirituality and religion is excessive altruism. Being a good person, helping others in need, and contributing to a better world is definitely the right thing to do.”

 

The paradox of life

What’s the most important thing to take into hospital with you?

My phone charger.

What not your toothbrush?

You can’t charge your phone with a toothbrush

You can’t clean your teeth with a phone charger either although you could use some tissue paper

But suppose you have a heart attack?

I might have to ring 999.

If you’re capable of using your phone it seems unlikely that you’ve had a heart attack.

That depends on the person and how polite they are.

What’s politeness got to do with it?

You’ll find out one day

You want to keep it secret

Because it’s embarrassing that’s all

What else would you take with you to the hospital

My phone my toothbrush my comb

What about your boyfriend?

Only if it’s a mixed ward.

Do you think the beds will  be wide enough  for 2 people?

They might have to sleep on top of each other.

I don’t think the doctor would like that

Let’s change the subject. Which book would you take with you?

The penguin  book of comic versem

How ironic

No that’s a separate book ; irony is not the same as comedy

Sometimes irony can be funny

My goodness you are so intelligent. Have you ever taken an IQ test?

Yes the 11 plus

What did you get?

85

You must be very clever to be able to do maths at university with such a low IQ

It’s not that low

half the population have an IQ of less than a hundred

Half the population have a height less than  the average also.

Short and intellectual stunted and that’s just half the population 😄

Is it less than or equal to?

I can see that you did maths or statistics

The probability is greater than or equal to a half.

But a half of what?

They don’t tell you that even at Oxford

Did you not ask them?

No they are very cruel.

Once they said to me I don’t believe someone with your intelligence does not understand  infinite sequences and series

So I replied strangely if I could explain why I don’t understand infinite series and sequences then I would understand it wouldn’t I?

That is the paradox that we were always trying to escape from

But maybe it’s the paradox that’s the most important thing in life whether it’s in intellectual subjects or it’s the paradox of living with other people who claim to love you but also seem to hate you something that cannot be avoided

It’s  as if life is in a big knot has been tied in the world and we can’t undo it

So the most important thing in life is learning how to live with paradoxes even though you would never know that that is what you were doing

So you can live a good life without knowing what you’re doing

That is what I believe but if you do know what you’re doing you can also explain it to other people though they may not thank you for it.

That’s the other paradox that you try to help people and it makes them angry.

I suppose we are all insecure to some degree

That’s why we keep tying these knots

Thank you very much Professor Blogge

Don’t mention it

Alright I won’t mention it Thank you very much

Write your answer with a PIN

What about New Year executions

Christmas fees

Birthday cocreation

Funny folly days

Fall hallows

Hot steamed bidding

Don’t forget the scream for the Christmas pudding

Do you think starters are coarse?

I seem to have mislaid the wives and the hawks.

I misled my folks!

What do you think of paper lap buns?

Would you like to wear paper blunderwear?

I’ve been reading my well frozen library books,all bleak. Do you want to  examine me tomorrow on paper?

Paper, paper everywhere and not a drop of ink.

I think I shall write with a PIN tomorrow

If you had a combination of real numbers and a computer I wonder what the outcome would be?

People

Alfred wished his wife would make a cake.
He himself could neither boil nor bake.
Yet when Marie bought cakes in Marks
His eyes emitted orange sparks.
I saw their marriage was at risk
And so I undertook my task.
I bought a needle circular,
And now I knit round cakes for her.

Wilfred wanted clean sheets every night
Their laundry basket was a wearing sight
Yet when Annette rang the launderette
He swore right through the alphabet.
I thought that they might well split up
Then dear Annette would lose her grip.
I bought some lovely plastic sheets
And on his bed they look so neat.

Herbert like to use real handkerchiefs
And, fancy, he wore heavy cotton briefs.
When Mary Jane boiled all his stuff
He said his pants weren’t clean enough.
I thought their union’d perish soon
And she’d not find another groom.
I bought ten gross of paper pants
And now he feels quite exultant.

Gilbert liked his tea to be real hot
But one Sunday his troubled wife forgot
He screamed and yelled like an infant
His face was red and petulant
I thought Diane would strike him dead
And have nobody in her bed.
I bought ten insulated mugs,
A teapot, and by Jove they’re snug!

These little tales are meant to make you laugh
For I would rather read or draw a graph.
But if we do not help our friends
We’d go much further round the bend.
I don’t want you to suffer long
So I’ll come round and sing my songs.
I’ve got my handbag and my case
And now I’m coming ,full of grace.

I saw Anne Frank

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Walking through unceasing traffic outside the main hospital,
I saw Anne Frank at the bus stop,I thought
There was a young woman with seven children,
Jewish,I saw.Little ones shyly offering us their seats.
I asked if she lived nearby.
No, we live in Stamford Hill,North London
What a shame you have to come so far,
for this terminus is inside the hospital grounds,you see.
Oh,no!We did not come for the hospital.
We came to pick fruit on that lovely farm down the hill!
Yes,we have been there too, it is very beautiful,I say.
It’s easy enough on public transport,she murmured softly like a little girl.
The children gazed, demure and polite,
I could see their smiles were not so far away.
I asked her,Would it be offensive
if I gave my husband a kippah
as he is tired of his hat?
Not at all,she murmured,smiling.
Why,you can get them anywhere now…Stamford Hill,Golder’s Green
She took off the hat from her son’s head
to show me how white his skin was there.
She told me how they just came back from a seaside holiday.
Too soon ,their bus came.She’d be ready for a cup of tea or two.
I saw eight faces smile,just a little smile,you know;
enough it was and all for me.
The oldest girl waved her hand gently as the bus left.
I see this is not just a place with a hospital.
It’s got a pick your own fruit farm;it’s got woods,hills,
fields with horses,tomato filled greenhouses,large white houses.
When they close their eyes they’ll see the green and the sunshine;they’ll see the woods on the hill.
And I shall see them and Anne Frank too ;it was the hidden smile.
Why,I see it is almost the Mona Lisa too.

A smile can be such a mystery.

Emerging from a hospital,tests,blood,anxiety.,machines,..
it’s like dreaming,
it’s like being given a hint;
there’s another time intersecting with this
and history herself brushes against my cheek
with a rare intimacy
that makes me both smile and weep.
It’s always here,but we don’t see…
It’s not a hospital only;
it’s a doorway to other worlds

and what worlds,indeed.,

Leonard Cohen On Psychotherapy

One notes that psychotherapy is not part of the joke. As Cohen told Stina Lundberg in a 2001 interview:

I don’t trust them [psychological explanations]. As I say in that song: “I know that I’m forgiven, but I don’t know how I know; I don’t trust my inner feelings, inner feelings come and go.” I think that psychological explanations can be valuable and that psychotherapy can be valuable for some people, but the fundamental question of how and why people are as they are is something that we can’t penetrate in this part of the plan, that we simply cannot grasp, and the feelings that arise – we don’t determine what we’re going to see next, we don’t determine what we’re going to hear next, taste next, feel next or think next, we don’t determine, yet we have the sense that we’re running the show. So if anything is relaxed in my mind it’s the sense of control, or the quest for meaning. And my experience is that there is no fixed self. There’s no-one whom I can locate as the real me, and dissolving the search for the real me is relaxation, is the content of peace. But these recognitions are temporary and fleeting, then we go back to thinking that we really know who we are.

And he told another interviewer in 2001:

For one reason or another, I didn’t have any confidence in the therapeutic model. Therapy seems to affirm the idea unconditionally of a self that has to be worked on and repaired. And my inclination was that it was holding that notion to begin with that was the problem — that there was this self that needed some kind of radical adjustment. It didn’t appeal to me for some odd reason.

Asked if he had tried psychotherapy, Cohen told another interviewer,

I preferred to use drugs. I preferred the conventional distractions of wine, women and song. And religion. But it’s all the same.

For the record,

Cohen did go to a therapist once, actually — out of desperation. He was so depressed that he called a friend and asked if she could arrange for him to see her therapist straightaway. Then he drove to St. John’s Health Center in Santa Monica “at about five miles an hour,” barely able to negotiate the traffic. When he got there, the therapist asked him to describe his feelings. After Cohen had finished, she said, “How can you stand it?”

The bitter end

We went to Richmond one bank holiday

With visions of a boat upon the Thames

One way or another men must pay

When we seek  a Richmond  holiday.

When we are alone what shall we say?

We don’t know until the bitter end

We went to Richmond one bank holiday

With visions of a boat upon the Thames

I beg your jargon

’ll go to Sodom Gomarrah

I’ll get some prayers; rite after death.. whose

I go to Confession; it’s smashin’

I wish we could still buy “Indulgences”

Oh, God, be fair to aged present!

Give me oil for my lamp, keep me burning.

Is desire a sin, and for ” whom”?

We should meet others without memory or desire especially in a “brothel”

He asked for a whore more in bed. I think that’s a misprint

Can’t get up, tired.

Speaks bad English

I am now a ” sinner” having committed more than 1,000 sins right here on my blog pages.

They are called posts officially But we all know about mass deception and wholly disunion.

Against sadness


J

Against sadness:no-one here can weep
Nor lounge about in melancholy deep.
Was Van Gogh senseless to permit his muse.
For his masterpieces ,was the price too steep?
We see the yellow chair but not his views
Nor his mind where technique made such leaps.
Nor was his journey broadcast on the news.
Against sadness.

Happiness or joy is hard to find
When we rest, the News preys on our minds
Yet some are cold towards the slaughtered priest
His nose a beak of bone in old face lined
Now Muslims go to Mass and join Christ’s feast
Against sadness.

What rages in the mind make men kill thus?
In Syrian wars the innocents fare worse.
But these are our near neighbours so we weep
And wonder how to end the frightening curse
The sins we once committed hold us deep
We hold our hands out wanting to be nursed
Against sadness

I wish I were in Lancashire again

I wish I were in Lancashire again

Pendle Hill, the pike of Rivington

The mountains of North Wales , the Cheshire plain

I will never climb, my legs are gone,

Dear home, the cobbled street my skipping rope.

The end wall of the house my mother’s face.

The tree she planted and her helpless hope

The love ,the feeling sad, the lost embrace..

I wish  I were in junior school once more

The powdered ink,, the brass the desks of oak

Children’s laughter to the sky can soar,

Skipping fast and how our arms would a àche

I wish I were a child and has no cares

I miss the. Freedom, bonfire night, the War

Emile goes to the newsagent

Mary had ordered all of her groceries but she forgot to put tea on the list So she sent Emile to the corner shop with a note tied to his collar Please give the bearer your best tea. Emile went off and managed to get into the shop after some children who were getting sweets with their pocket money or debit cards He went up to the counter and mewed, Mother has sent you a note. One of the children laughed Is your mother a girlfriend of Mr. Kumar? No, she is not, Emile growled with a loud throbbing voice Mr. Kumar led Emile behind the counter into his living room and spoke to his wife She asked Emile to sit down as she went into the kitchen and poured him some tea from her China teapot .Do you want it on a saucer, she enquired thoughtfully? Yes, please, said Emile. This is very kind. He leaped onto the rug and began sipping the Ceylon tea. This makes a change, he murmured. I didn’t know you could just walk in and get free tea! After a few minutes, the shop door crashed open and he heard Mary’s voice Oh, Mr. Kumar, I am so stupid. I sent Emile out to buy some Twinings tea and he has not come home! What shall we do? She started crying and dabbing her eyes with Stan’s hanky. Come through, he whispered politely. Do not weep, dear. All is well Mary came in and saw Emile drinking his tea and winking at Mrs. Kumar. Emile, you stupid cat. I was going crazy worrying.I’ll strangle you! Is it my fault, he replied. I only gave them that note you sent. But is it not obvious what I intended? she said plaintively These days you never know, the cat muttered. I try to be obedient as far as I can. Mrs. Kumar came out and gave Mary a cup of tea. Sit down, dear. Worry is so bad for you. Why did you not phone us? Since it was just a packet of tea I thought Emile could carry it. He is very intelligent normally. Yes, I am, thought Emile as he looked at Maisie, the Kumar’s lovely cat who was asleep on a chair. I wonder if I can wake her up, he asked himself. Does she drink tea? Would she like to start a family? It’s not too late for me to become a parent. Maisie opened her eyes What’s that cat doing here? I only came for the tea, Emile told her. But you look very beautiful. Shall we meet tonight I’m washing my fur, she told him with a smile How about tomorrow? Have you got a phone? No, he said, I’ll just caterwaul at dusk and if you are free I’ll be under the red maple tree waiting for you Good grief thought Mary. This cat is very cunning. Just one chance and he is making the most of it. Mr. Kumar gave her some tea and she wandered home in a daze after asking them for a drink on Sunday. My social life is looking up but there’s no-one who will hug me. If only Emile were bigger! His legs are too short!I should get a donkey instead

Dr Smith is a very lucky man

Dr Smith that lucky man.
Had a wife called Mary Anne.
He gave her children twenty two.
How ever did this woman do?

She had many helping hands
To take her children on the sands.
They swam in batches in the sea.
And then she took them home for tea.

She had triplets,she had twins.
She even had one set of quins.
So loneliness was quite unknown.
And all were trained to use the phone.

She was a very sturdy wife.
She worked very hard at life.
But once a week she went to town
And looked at bags and evening gowns.

But Dr Smith did not go out.
He was dusting , have no doubt.
At night they went to bed and loved
Just like a pair of turtle doves.

In the morning she rose up
And made some tea in a big cup.
She had a tiny chunk of time.
For such a one,this is no crime.

We all need a peaceful break,
To sit by our own inner lake.
To see the fish and watch the sun
As gold and glowing up it comes.

So if you have many children too,
Take heart from this small tale.
She took her time to meditate…
And her heart never failed.

For men may come and men may go,
and likewise children too.
You need to have some free “me time.”
Whatever else you do

Ethical problems?

My husband has dementia, can I ethically put him into a nursing home and move to the United States?

If you’re planning to move to the United States now it is you who have dementia not your husband.

Or perhaps you are not very intelligent.

Are you very wealthy because if you’re not  the plan is inconceivable.

Are you going to live with someone very rich in the United States who is in desperate need of a new wife? Be very careful.

Birds  chirp privately

Gazing down the green deep wild garden

I hear the birds making small private noises

Their little lives go on

They are happy unless their mate dies.

Geese can fly around for hours till exhausted searching for the one they have lost.

I like these small domestic sounds of birds or animals

No wonder cats want to eat birds, because the bird has got more free life than a cat has.

Imagine a cat’s family and their tame pet human shrunk to a suitable size by some magic potion like Alice in Wonderland.

Oh my little bird my garden bird I can’t see you but I hear you enjoying the evening sun

But no blackbird sings these times since they cut down the big tree.

If my hearing were better I would be able to hear even smaller sounds like the sounds of the worm pushing through the soil

Better than listening to the news.

The experts: neurologists on 17 simple ways to look after your brain

We can’t get away from these articles I suppose we are living longer and so that’s increases the amount of time that we could the affected by cognitive problems

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2025/apr/30/the-experts-neurologists-on-17-simple-ways-to-look-after-your-brain?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

The gift of sight, fine flowers, blue butterflies

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In my hedge of beech mixed into yew
The wrens have nested,now they learn to fly
I felt my heart grow lighter at this view

When the heart is lifted,that’s a clue
That symbols of new life are coming by
From my hedge of beech mixed into yew

Keeping vision clear,look out and bow
What lives now  must shrink and one day die
I felt my heart ache taking  such a view

With many gifts  we humans are endowed
The gift of sight, fine flowers,  blue butterflies
By my hedge of beech mixed into yew

The gift of tongues, creation of the new
From  sweet Joan Baez to little babies’ cries
I felt my heart swell in my breast anew

Conception, growth,maturity,goodbye
Like the flying star we  shall go far
By my hedge of beech mixed into yew
I felt my heart  beat stronger than I knew

 

 

The wrens

My front hedge is so thick, wrens made a nest
I saw a small bird flying low and swift
With my garden I feel human, blessed

The bonsai beech has grown till almost dense
It has no trunk, the leaves are tiny  gifts
My front hedge is so full, wrens made a nest

My clematis has flowered beyond  all sense
When I looked  I felt my soft heart lift
In my garden, know that I am blessed

In a deep green  wood the eye can rest
Open eyed, a look  must not be fast
My front hedge welcomes wrens ,oh,love,a nest!

Deep happiness connects us  to what’s best
The dark blue sky, the sunset flaming,  brief.
With my garden I feel love, I ‘m blessed

 Be alive, don’t dwell on thoughts too sweet
The natural world   brings virtue  and deceit
My front hedge is so thick, wrens made a nest
These tiny  creatures filled with  love and zest

 

 

 

 

Heartache

My photo

My heart was aching like a rotten tooth

I never felt such certainty before

Don’t believe me when I tell the truth

My heart was aching like a rotten tooth

Such a pity that the heart’s not loose.

The fearful pain the anguish at the core.

My heart was aching like a rotten tooth

But now my heart won’t ache, it is no more

There are no sheets in hell

I wish that every woman had the time

To put the washing out and make a rhyme

I wish that men could enjoy changing sheets

The strong and muscular all  fear defeat.

They tremble by the bed, their eyes go blurred.

Then they will pretend they do not care.

This is women’s work we are too weak

Men are not designed to deal with sheets.

The flat ones are not too bad to keep in place

But  the fitted bottom sheets make red my face.

They can pull the beer in barrels strong

But they can’t pull a sheet, there’s something wrong

Never mind there are no sheets in hell

But as your mother told you show don’t tell,

Should I have written poetry instead?

Surprised by  sun I hung the washing out.

Should  I have written poetry instead?

Yet this was a good thing I have no doubt

Surprised by sun I hung my white sheets out

And in my mind I heard my mother shout

Put that book down,, go and make your bed

Surprised by sun I hung the washing out

I wish I’d written poetry instead

The sun pierced both my eyes

The sun pierced both my eyes and then my heart

Enjoyed itself and filled my soul with bliss

As light had to choose it chose that part

I received a gift I had not sought

in truth I must reveal I’d like a kiss

The sun pierced both my eyes and then my heart

Enjoyed itself and filled me with its bliss

The sun

On April 29th the sun shone through

The northwest  window where I  mostly sit

I do not feel that sunlight is my due

On April 29 the sun came through

Shone upon my face my eyes of blue

My heart leapt up and that was truly fit.

On April 29 the sun came through.

The  northwest window was indeed well lit

Where wildflowers grow

Down daisied fields sweet grasses grow

Down these green fields,I know,I know.

In unploughed fields where wild flowers blow

We’ll meet again,I Iove you so.

It was in the first soft summer light

I saw you standing by my side

I saw you by the drystone wall.

I never doubted you at all

When meadows bright all bloom again

I know we’ll see you coming then..

in sunny fields where wildflowers hide

I’ll know my love is by my side

Oh,come dear heart,do not delay..

We are not long till in the clay.

I’ll stand upon the beacon hide

And never rest,till you are near.

When flowering buds all open wide

When bees to poppies swiftly glide.

When your dear heart is pressed to mine

Our eyes will melt and souls combine. Oh,where are you,my dearest one?

All too soon our lives are gone

I gaze across the fields and hills.

As sunset-sky with flames is filled.

When buttercups and celandine

Beckon to me in my dreams.

When apple blossom fills the tree

I believe with love I’ll see.I’ll see.