May 5, 2007
I may eye May
ply your hammock among the trees, settle your skin upon springy skein, relax your mind and drift back in centuries two, three, four where
"...Cromwell could not cease
In the inglorious arts of peace
But through adventurous war
Urged his active star..."
and Andrew Marvell escaped prose'aic politics in his poetic Garden, though
Society is all but rude
To this delicious solitude.
and no industrious bee was yet clichéd....
How well the skilful gardener drew
of flowers and herbs this dial new!
Where, from above, the milder sun
Does through a fragrant zodiac run:
And, as it works, the industrious bee
Computes it's time as well as we.
How could such sweet and wholesome hours
Be reckoned, but with herbs and flowers.
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