Poems on Wildlife

[philomath]

Here's a very interesting poem (to me) for this morning by William Barnes. What makes it special is that it is in the Dorset dialect of english. I just learned of Barnes recently and would love to cover his work in more detail in another thread at some point. Anyways here you go!

Zun-zet
By William Barnes

Where the western zun, unclouded,
Up above the grey hill-tops,
Did sheen drough ashes, lofty sh’ouded,
On the turf beside the copse,
In zummer weather,
We together,
Sorrow-slightèn, work-vorgettèn,
Gambol’d wi’ the zun a-zettèn.

There, by flow’ry bows o’ bramble,
Under hedge, in ash-tree sheädes,
The dun-heäir’d ho’se did slowly ramble
On the grasses’ dewy bleädes,
Zet free o’ lwoads,
An’ stwony rwoads,
Vorgetvul o’ the lashes frettèn,
Grazèn wi’ the zun a-zettèn.

There wer rooks a-beätèn by us
Drough the aïr, in a vlock,
An’ there the lively blackbird, nigh us,
On the meäple bough did rock,
Wi’ ringèn droat,
Where zunlight smote
The yollow boughs o’ zunny hedges
Over western hills’ blue edges.

Waters, drough the meäds a-purlèn,
Glissen’d in the evenèn’s light,
An’ smoke, above the town a-curlèn,
Melted slowly out o’ zight;
An’ there, in glooms
Ov unzunn’d rooms,
To zome, wi’ idle sorrows frettèn,
Zuns did set avore their zettèn.

We were out in geämes and reäces,
Loud a-laughèn, wild in me’th,
Wi’ windblown heäir, an’ zunbrowned feäces,
Leäpèn on the high-sky’d e’th,
Avore the lights
Wer tin’d o’ nights,
An’ while the gossamer’s light nettèn
Sparkled to the zun a-zettèn.

 

[philomath]

A poem for this evening:

Summer Evening
By John Clare

The frog half fearful jumps across the path,
And little mouse that leaves its hole at eve
Nimbles with timid dread beneath the swath;
My rustling steps awhile their joys deceive,
Till past, and then the cricket sings more strong,
And grasshoppers in merry moods still wear
The short night weary with their fretting song.
Up from behind the molehill jumps the hare,
Cheat of his chosen bed, and from the bank
The yellowhammer flutters in short fears
From off its nest hid in the grasses rank,
And drops again when no more noise it hears.
Thus nature's human link and endless thrall,
Proud man, still seems the enemy of all.

 

[John Nyberg]

I am appreciate Clare’s natural themes. This is something that does not come easily to me when I write a sonnet. I most often write and read poems that are more spiritual/ metaphysical, so this is refreshing. I enjoyed finding out the reason for the frog’s and mouse’s fears. It is the author’s “rustling steps” which causes the disquietude. It seems like he placed the Volta, in the 13th line where we find out that the author is “nature’s thrall.” He loves, and is therefore enslaved to, nature and yet She treats him as “an enemy.” Do you think I am reading that correctly, Jacob?

 

[philomath]

I am appreciate Clare’s natural themes. This is something that does not come easily to me when I write a sonnet. I most often write and read poems that are more spiritual/ metaphysical, so this is refreshing. I enjoyed finding out the reason for the frog’s and mouse’s fears. It is the author’s “rustling steps” which causes the disquietude. It seems like he placed the Volta, in the 13th line where we find out that the author is “nature’s thrall.” He loves, and is therefore enslaved to, nature and yet She treats him as “an enemy.” Do you think I am reading that correctly, Jacob?

I'd say this is very close to my thinking of the poem. The only place where I read it slightly differently is with the specifics of the enslavement.

My mind is brought to Genesis 9:2, "The fear of you and the dread of you shall be upon every beast of the earth and upon every bird of the heavens, upon everything that creeps on the ground and all the fish of the sea. Into your hand they are delivered."

Though Clare loves nature, I think the enslavement is neutral with regard to affection. I see it lying more along the lines of function. I would probably distill this idea into a statement like this: "Man is in servitude to nature, serving the function of frightening wildlife, regardless of his intent and affection."

I definitiely think the Volta is in the 13th line and appreciate the lead up to it. When man is near, wildlife flees, hides, or becomes quiet. When man is past, they go back to their joys, singing, and nesting. I espescially like how the poem alternates between these two states (for now I'll call them unsettled and calm) until you reach line 13, which gets to the core reason: to wildlife, man seems to be the enemy. The fear and dread of man are indeed upon them.

The frog half fearful jumps across the path,
And little mouse that leaves its hole at eve
Nimbles with timid dread beneath the swath;
My rustling steps awhile their joys deceive,

Unsettled

Till past, and then the cricket sings more strong,
And grasshoppers in merry moods still wear
The short night weary with their fretting song.

Calm

Up from behind the molehill jumps the hare,
Cheat of his chosen bed, and from the bank
The yellowhammer flutters in short fears
From off its nest hid in the grasses rank,

Unsettled

And drops again when no more noise it hears.

Calm

Thus nature's human link and endless thrall,
Proud man, still seems the enemy of all.

The core reason

---

Reading through this poem and considering Genesis 9:2, I'm reminded of the awe I feel during the moments when animals aren't afraid of man, or at least when they aren't as afraid as they usually are. This typically happens when they've been fed or have spent a lot of time near man, but there are also those odd moments where they get close despite not being fed by or accustomed to him. When that happens, it often seems as if they have a quiet curiosity about them.

Around six years ago, I had a buck walk up to me while I was taking a walk out in the rain. This was in a rural area and I never fed deer, but it's possible a neighbor miles away could've fed him! He sniffed me, then ran off. Here's a screenshot from the video I got of the encounter:

 

[John Nyberg]

@philomath
Well said!

That’s a fantastic picture! Once in a lifetime shot right there

 

[philomath]

@philomath
Well said!

That’s a fantastic picture! Once in a lifetime shot right there

Thanks! I was a smidge concerned with him getting close at first since deer were in the rut at the time (and I didn't know whether he would be territorial and aggressive), but I decided to take my chances. It was worth it

 

[philomath]

Tonight's poem is another one by William Barnes.

The Blackbird

Ov all the birds upon the wing
Between the zunny showers o' spring,
Vor all the lark, a-swingen high,
Mid zing below a cloudless sky,
An' sparrows, clust'ren roun' the bough,
Mid chatter to the men at plough,
The blackbird, whisslen in among
The boughs, do zing the gayest zong.

Vor we do hear the blackbird zing
His sweetest ditties in the spring,
When nippen win's noo mwore do blow
Vrom northern skies, wi' sleet or snow,
But dreve light doust along between
The leane-zide hedges, thick an' green;
An' zoo the blackbird in among
The boughs do zing the gayest zong.

'Tis blithe, wi' newly-opened eyes,
To zee the mornen's ruddy skies;
Or, out a-haulen frith or lops
Vrom new-pleshed hedge or new-velled copse,
To rest at noon in primrwose beds
Below the white-barked woak-trees' heads;
But there's noo time, the whole day long,
Lik' evenen wi' the blackbird's zong.

Vor when my work is all a-done
Avore the zetten o' the zun,
Then blushen Jeane do walk along
The hedge to meet me in the drong,
An' stay till all is dim an' dark
Bezides the ashen tree's white bark;
An' all bezides the blackbird's shrill
An' runnen evenen-whissle's still.

An' there in bwoyhood I did rove
Wi' pryen eyes along the drove
To vind the nest the blackbird meade
O' grass-stalks in the high bough's sheade;
Or climb aloft, wi' clingen knees,
Vor crows' aggs up in swayen trees,
While frightened blackbirds down below
Did chatter o' their little foe.
An' zoo there's noo pleace lik' the drong,
Where I do hear the blackbird's zong.

 

[philomath]

A poem for this morning:

Address To The Woodlark
By Robert Burnes

O stay, sweet warbling woodlark, stay,
Nor quit for me the trembling spray,
A hapless lover courts thy lay,
Thy soothing, fond complaining.
Again, again that tender part,
That I may catch thy melting art;
For surely that wad touch her heart
Wha kills me wi' disdaining.
Say, was thy little mate unkind,
And heard thee as the careless wind?
Oh, nocht but love and sorrow join'd,
Sic notes o' woe could wauken!
Thou tells o' never-ending care;
O'speechless grief, and dark despair:
For pity's sake, sweet bird, nae mair!
Or my poor heart is broken.

 

[John Nyberg]

Daffodils or I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud,
by William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

 

[John Nyberg]

Jacob, I hope you won’t mind me sharing an original piece for this thread. Reading through these works inspired me to take a crack at writing a wildlife themed poem

A Southern Evening

A summer anthem circles ‘round the trees
As Apollo’s chariot falls beneath the crest
And draws his steeds to stable, there to rest.
Cicada chorus rises quick then settles in relief
To let the song bird’s final notes break through
The day’s retreating light; then silent streams
Of bats ascend with fastly flitting wings
Mosquito prey with quickness to pursue.
A panting dog advances from her den
As cooling breezes blow and move the leaves
to bring a weary worker sweet release,
Before the sun in fierceness shines again.
Twilight delight restores the mind to rest
As God enwraps the world in ebon nest

 

[philomath]

Jacob, I hope you won’t mind me sharing an original piece for this thread. Reading through these works inspired me to take a crack at writing a wildlife themed poem

A Southern Evening

A summer anthem circles ‘round the trees
As Apollo’s chariot falls beneath the crest
And draws his steeds to stable, there to rest.
Cicada chorus rises quick then settles in relief
To let the song bird’s final notes break through
The day’s retreating light; then silent streams
Of bats ascend with fastly flitting wings
Mosquito prey with quickness to pursue.
A panting dog advances from her den
As cooling breezes blow and move the leaves
to bring a weary worker sweet release,
Before the sun in fierceness shines again.
Twilight delight restores the mind to rest
As God enwraps the world in eb’ny nest

Absolutely John! I enjoyed this a lot. The chorus of all these creatures in one evening with their different voices joining together for one anthem.

Some of my favorite parts:

As Apollo’s chariot falls beneath the crest
And draws his steeds to stable, there to rest.

This was a great line for the setting of the sun and is very reminiscent of poetry influenced by Renaissance humanism. "There to rest". A beautiful picture of the cycle of the day and how it's a normative example for our rest, which is a gift from God.

Psalm 104:19-23
He made the moon to mark the seasons;
the sun knows its time for setting.
20 You make darkness, and it is night,
when all the beasts of the forest creep about.
21 The young lions roar for their prey,
seeking their food from God.
22 When the sun rises, they steal away
and lie down in their dens.
23 Man goes out to his work
and to his labor until the evening.

Psalm 127:1-2

Unless the Lord builds the house,
those who build it labor in vain.
Unless the Lord watches over the city,
the watchman stays awake in vain.
2 It is in vain that you rise up early
and go late to rest,
eating the bread of anxious toil;
for he gives to his beloved sleep.

Cicada chorus rises quick then settles in relief
To let the song bird’s final notes break through

Living in a rural area, I've experienced the deafening song of cicadas. "The song bird's notes break through" is extremely accurate.

As cooling breezes blow and move the leaves
to bring a weary worker sweet release,

I'm reminded of past times laboring outdoors and this was always my favorite part of the day. I espescially like late summer when the breezes go from cool to cold.

One thing I also consider with this: the coolness of the breeze is wonderful, but the sound of the leaves is relaxing in and of itself. It's as if it's a breath of the forrest, or a whispering of the trees.

Twilight delight restores the mind to rest
As God enwraps the world in eb’ny nest

Such a great phrase for the night! Eb'ny nest.

 

[John Nyberg]

@philomath

Thanks for reading, Jacob. And thank you for the kind comment. This was a fun one to write! I really enjoyed your Psalm 104 quotation. That is definitely a psalm I will have to revisit

 

[John Nyberg]

Such a great phrase for the night! Eb'ny nest.

Also, the word “ebon” is apparently a more traditional way to fit ebony into a line of iambic verse. Do you think that would sound better?

 

[philomath]

Also, the word “ebon” is apparently a more traditional way to fit ebony into a line of iambic verse. Do you think that would sound better?

Hmm. That's hard for me to choose. I'd say ebon "flows" better due to it's final letter being the same as the first letter of the word after it. But, eb'ny has more of a "bounce" to it. For the poem, ebon may be a "calmer" sounding choice, which would fit well with the mood of the last line. Eb'ny is more rythmic and it's fun to say.

One question I suppose you could ask is whether you want to use a contraction when theres a standalone word for the orginal word (ebony) that has the same amount of syllables? Personally, I see nothing wrong with that!

 

[John Nyberg]

@philomath very helpful thoughts brother, I think I’ll go with Ebon

 

[philomath]

Norlan' Wind (The Wild Geese)
By Violet Jacob

Oh tell me what was on your road, ye roarin’ norlan’ Wind,
As ye cam’ blawin’ frae the land that’s niver frae my mind?
My feet they traivel England, but I’m deein’ for the north.
My man, I heard the siller tides rin up the Firth o Forth”

Aye, Wind, I ken them weel eneuch, and fine they fa’ and rise,
And fain I’d feel the creepin’ mist on yonder shore that lies,
But tell me, ere ye passed them by, what saw ye on the way?
My man, I rocked the rovin’ gulls that sail abune the Tay.

But saw ye naething, leein’ Wind, afore ye cam’ to Fife?
There’s muckle lyin’ ‘yont the Tay that’s mair to me nor life.
My man, I swept the Angus braes ye ha’ena trod for years.
O Wind, forgi’e a hameless loon that canna see for tears!

And far abune the Angus straths I saw the wild geese flee,
A lang, lang skein o’ beatin’ wings wi’ their heids towards the sea,
And aye their cryin’ voices trailed ahint them on the air –
O Wind, hae maircy, haud yer whisht, for I daurna listen mair!

 

[John Nyberg]

What a fascinating poem. Quite fun to figure out the dialect and syntax. It’s gonna need another read or two from me before I figure it out completely. What is the word “frae”?

 

[philomath]

What a fascinating poem. Quite fun to figure out the dialect and syntax. It’s gonna need another read or two from me before I figure it out completely. What is the word “frae”?

It is! I really enjoy reading Scots. The word "frae" is from.

 

[philomath]

A day after I posted it there was a snail on my mailbox when I came home from work which was awesome.

Look who showed up on my mailbox again this evening:

A Southern Evening

A summer anthem circles ‘round the trees
As Apollo’s chariot falls beneath the crest
And draws his steeds to stable, there to rest.
Cicada chorus rises quick then settles in relief
To let the song bird’s final notes break through
The day’s retreating light; then silent streams
Of bats ascend with fastly flitting wings
Mosquito prey with quickness to pursue.
A panting dog advances from her den
As cooling breezes blow and move the leaves
to bring a weary worker sweet release,
Before the sun in fierceness shines again.
Twilight delight restores the mind to rest
As God enwraps the world in ebon nest

I was reminded of your poem while I was sitting on a porch this evening. I watched bats flying for a while as twilight faded. One even swooped down a couple feet from my head!

 

[philomath]

What the Bird Said Early in the Year
By C.S. Lewis

I heard in Addison’s Walk a bird sing clear:
This year the summer will come true. This year. This year.

Winds will not strip the blossom from the apple trees
This year, nor want of rain destroy the peas.

This year time’s nature will no more defeat you,
Nor all the promised moments in their passing cheat you.

This time they will not lead you round and back
To Autumn, one year older, by the well-worn track.

This year, this year, as all these flowers foretell,
We shall escape the circle and undo the spell.

Often deceived, yet open once again your heart,
Quick, quick, quick, quick!—the gates are drawn apart.

 

[John Nyberg]

Beautiful. Do you have a physical copy of Lewis’ poems?

 

[philomath]

Beautiful. Do you have a physical copy of Lewis’ poems?

I do not! Perhaps I'll get one at some point. I see there's a book of his poems and one of his narrative poems as well.