Corn, 1958
The dark green summer, with its massive hues,
Fades into Autumn's tincture manifold;
A gorgeous garniture of fire and gold
The high slope of the ferny hill indues.
The mists of morn in slumbering layers diffuse
O'er glimmering rock, smooth lake, and spiked array
Of hedgerow thorns a unity of gray.
All things appear their tangible form to lose
In ghostly vastness. But anon the gloom
Melts, as the sun puts off his muddy veil.
And now the birds their twittering songs resume,
All summer silent in the leafy dale.
In spring they piped of love on every tree,
But now they sing the song of memory.
Fades into Autumn's tincture manifold;
A gorgeous garniture of fire and gold
The high slope of the ferny hill indues.
The mists of morn in slumbering layers diffuse
O'er glimmering rock, smooth lake, and spiked array
Of hedgerow thorns a unity of gray.
All things appear their tangible form to lose
In ghostly vastness. But anon the gloom
Melts, as the sun puts off his muddy veil.
And now the birds their twittering songs resume,
All summer silent in the leafy dale.
In spring they piped of love on every tree,
But now they sing the song of memory.
Underbar tavla och underbar dikt!
SvaraRaderaIngrid
Ingrid,
RaderaJag är inte odelat förtjust i primitiv eller naivistisk (eller vad man nu vill kalla hennes konst), men både Grandma Moses och Josabeth Sjöberg tycker jag är intressanta.
Och vad Hartley beträffar så föll väl inte äpplet så långt från päronträdet.
Margaretha