Saturday, June 15, 2013

Time To Bale

It's hay baling time in Tennessee.
The sweet aroma of newly cut grasses float across gentle breezes.
Becoming fodder for the beasts on cold Winter days.

“Haymaking” [sonnet]
Tis haytime & the red complexioned sun
Was scarcely up ere blackbirds had begun
Along the meadow hedges here & there
To sing loud songs to the sweet smelling air
Where breath of flowers & grass & happy cow
Fling oer ones senses streams of fragrance now
While in some pleasant nook the swain & maid
Lean oer their rakes & loiter in the shade
Or bend a minute oer the bridge & throw
Crumbs in their leisure to the fish below
—Hark at that happy shout—& song between
Tis pleasures birthday in her meadow scene
What joy seems half so rich from pleasure won
As the loud laugh of maidens in the sun.

John Clare (1793-1864).


Richard Lawry said...

I love hay bales in a field!
An Arkies Musings

Bernideen said...

When I first read this I thought it read "Time to Bake"!

Willow said...

We were just talking today about how much we love the smell of a fresh cut hay field.

DJan said...

Wow! Reminds me of toasted cinnamon rolls for some reason! :-)