Abstract Reflections

Abstract Reflections

A dirt road with leaves on it

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Of schoolboy walks through Dingley-dell on the way to church on Sundays

‘Righteousness’ or rectitude is the quality or state of being morally correct and justifiable. It can be considered synonymous with “rightness” or being “upright” or to-the-light and visible. It can be found in several religions and traditions.

“ He does not die that can bequeath,

Some influence on the land he knows.

Or dares, persistent, interweave.

Love permanent with the wild hedgerows”.

Of the Norman church, St Mary’s, on the Hill at Harrow, built by Lanfranc and completed by Anselm.

“Dark was the forest, heron haunted the marshes,

The rooks of old Roxeth were cawing their loudest,

When the mason from Bec awoke from his slumbers,

‘Curse that great Saxon what a noise he is making.

Felling that oak tree. He is worse than the rooks’.

‘Speak not so harshly,’ said Anselm the gentle

‘Although he seems witless look at his muscles.

We want simple strength in the church we are building.

It needs a brave mixture to make a good world’.”


‘An English Village Green’

The skylark and thrush,

The birds of the bush,

Sing louder around.

To the bells’ cheerful sound

While our sports shall be seen

On the Echoing Green.

Old John, with white hair,

Does laugh away care,

Sitting under the oak,

Among the old folk.

They laugh at our play.

And soon they all say:

‘Such, such were the joys

When we all girls and boys,

In our youth time were seen

On the Echoing Green.’

William Blake ‘Songs of Innocence’

Never More

O World! O Life! O Time!

On whose last steps I climb.

Trembling at That where I had stood before;

When will return the glory of your prime?

No more – Oh, never more!

Out of the day and night

A joy has taken flight;

Fresh Spring, and Summer, and Winter hoar

Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight,

No more – Oh, never more!

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Suffolk Epitaph

Stranger pass by and waste no time.

On bad biography and careless rhyme,

For what I am, this humble stone encloses;

And what I was is no affair of yours’s.


Farmer’s Boy

They strolled down the lane together,

The sky was studded with stars,

They reached the gate in Silence,

And he lifted the bars,

She neither smiled nor thanked him.

Because she knew not how;

For he was just a farmer’s boy

And she a Jersey cow . . .


A Spring Morning

The Spring comes in with all hues and smells,

In freshness breathing over hills and dells;

O’er woods where May her gorgeous drapery flings,

And meads washed fragrant by their laughing springs’

Fresh are new opened flowers, untouched and free

From the bold rifling of the amorous bee.

The happy time of singing birds is come,

And Love’s lone pilgrimage now finds a home;

Among the mossy oaks now coos the dove,

And the hoarse crow finds softer notes for love.

The foxes play around their dens, and bark

In joy’s excess, ‘mid woodland shadows dark.

The flowers join lips below, the leaves above;

And every sound that meets the ear is Love.

John Clare

The Pasture

I’m going out to clean the pasture spring;

I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away

(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):

I sha’n’t be gone long.-You come too.

I’m going out to fetch the little calf

That’s standing by the mother. It’s so young

It totters when she licks it with her tongue.

I sha’n’t be gone long.-You come too.

Robert Frost

The Moron

See the happy moron,

He doesn’t give a damn!

I wish I were a moron-

My God! Perhaps I am!


My Candle

My candle burns at both ends;

It will not last the night;

But ah, my foes, and oh my friends-

It gives a lovely light!

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Good Sense

Never look backwards or you’ll fall down the stairs. He travels the fastest who travels alone. All the people like us are we, and everyone else is They.

Take everything you like seriously, except yourselves. No price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.

Rudyard Kipling, who was named after the Rudyard Lake in Staffordshire. He was the youngest ever recipient of the Nobel Prize for Literature.

The Glory of the Gardens

Oh, Adam was a gardener, and God who made him sees,

That half a proper gardener’s work is done upon his knees,

So when your work is finished, you can wash your hands and pray,

For the Glory of the Garden that it may not pass away!

And the Glory of the Garden it shall never pass away!

Rudyard Kipling

The Reeds of Runnymede

At Runnymede, at Runnymede,

Your rights were won at Runnymead!

No freeman shall be fined or bound,

Or dispossessed of freehold ground,

Except by lawful judgment found

And passed upon him by his peers.

Forget not, after all these years,

The Charter signed at Runnymead.

Rudyard Kipling

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