WRITER
Poems
Where the bee…
Where the bee sucks, there suck I: In a cowslip’s bell I lie; There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat’s back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
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The Soote Season
Language is forever changing and evolving, and as new words arrive older words soemtimes fade away and are lost; however sometimes when you come across a ‘lost’ word, the context brings it back to life again. In this sonnet by Henry Howard, you might at first think ‘the soote season’ is winter, when fires are […]
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Lois Elsden 