Thought of the day

Red apples hang like globes of light

Against this pale November haze,

And now, although the mist is white,

In half-an-hour a day of days

Will climb into its golden height

And Sunday bells will ring its praise.

 

The sparkling flint, the darkling yew,

The red brick, less intensely red

Than hawthorn berries bright with dew

Or leaves of creeper still unshed,

The watery sky washed clean and new,

Are all rejoicing with the dead.

 

The yellowing elm shows yet some green,

The mellowing bells exultant sound:

Never have light and colour been

So prodigally thrown around;

And in the bells the promise tells

Of greater light where Love is found.

 

John Betjeman

fullsizeoutput_e06.jpeg
Regent’s Park, London
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s