O, England

Happy St. George’s Day, English peoples. Heads high, shoulders back, chests out, and all that. Pie and chips, and a pint of ale for each of you. Just put it on my tab and I’ll see to it later.

Since it’s St. George’s Day … and since it’s also National Poetry Month … and since it’s April … and since my English husband always has an attack of homesickness at this time of year … and since I am a mega fan of Victorian poetry … and since this is my blog and I can post whatever moves me, I give you:

Home Thoughts, from Abroad

O, TO be in England
Now that April ‘s there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England—now!

And after April, when May follows,
And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!
Hark, where my blossom’d pear-tree in the hedge
Leans to the field and scatters on the clover
Blossoms and dewdrops—at the bent spray’s edge—
That ‘s the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,
Lest you should think he never could recapture
The first fine careless rapture!
And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,
All will be gay when noontide wakes anew
The buttercups, the little children’s dower
—Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!

~Robert Browning

Now we’ll let Dame Vera wrap up this post in a manner most fitting. Enjoy.


One thought on “O, England

  1. We could so do with you living *over here*. The PC brigade has gone rampant and it's almost a sin to celebrate our innate Englishness. Some of us are fighting back though and although Boris Johnson (the London mayor) might seem foppish, in truth he did his bit to raise awareness. I've never considered myself a Conservative but I have a lot of respect for him.

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