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O thou who passest thro’ our valleys in
Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat
That flames from their large nostrils! thou, O Summer,
Oft pitchedst here thy golden tent, and oft
Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld
With joy, thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair.
- to Summer, William Blake
rain rain
go away
come again another day
It's got too hot
and now my snot
is frying on my face,
I'm off out
to ride about
but I'm taking my cagoule, just in case.
The sluggard, by William Davies - one of my favourites irrespective of season!
A JAR of cider and my pipe,
In summer, under shady tree;
A book by one that made his mind
Live by its sweet simplicity:
Then must I laugh at kings who sit
In richest chambers, signing scrolls;
And princes cheered in public ways,
And stared at by a thousand fools.
Let me be free to wear my dreams,
Like weeds in some mad maiden's hair,
When she believes the earth has not
Another maid so rich and fair;
And proudly smiles on rich and poor,
The queen of all fair women then:
So I, dressen in my idle dreams,
Will think myself the king of men.
Summer
I've wasted too much time on hope
Wishing it could be like imagined past
So cradle me soft in cloudless past
And whisper: it's not just a mess of longing and loss
And she tears up the night into
Strips of memory
lays them across my face
To soothe my stinging eyes
We few
We happy few
We flock of brothers 😉
(Mint sauce)
wordnumb's is ... beautiful
The trails are dry and dusty
My tyres are all pumped up
I've polished my Oakleys
and I've got some Hi-five to sup
The hills are a calling and I've just got to go
to swoop and sweat and clatter on the singletrack flow...
and afterwards:
I'm standing in the shower
thinking of you, so fair
I've drawn your face on the soap
and now you're kissing me 'down there'.