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 … Continue reading Thought of the day