A shaded lamp and a waving blind,
And the beat of a clock from a distant floor:
On this scene enter–winged, horned, and spined –
A longlegs, a moth, and a dumbledore;
While ‘mid my page there idly stands
A sleepy fly, that rubs its hands . . .
Thus meet we five, in this still place,
At this point of time, at this point in space.
– My guests parade my new-penned ink,
Or bang at the lamp-glass, whirl, and sink.
“God’s humblest, they!” I muse. Yet why?
They know Earth-secrets that know not I.
NOTE: In August guests arrive here at Middlemay Farm. The tomatoes ripen and children beg for visits to the lake. My time for blogging will be limited depending on how the August moon strikes me, but please come by for a series of guest posts (starting on Sunday) called Family History. The posts are written by some of my favorite bloggers. I may still post some fiction and hope to make visits to your blogs, but you never know in August here on the farm.
All the best ~
2 responses to “An August Midnight by Thomas Hardy”
This poem resonates with me. A writer’s muse comes in all shapes if we are alert to their offerings.
Have fun in August!
I have a whole bunch of artistic nieces over for the next two weeks–with more coming at the weekend! I love having them but the house is littered with heaps of paper and markers! They are the greatest tweens I know–very sweet and funny– and we get to eat ice cream for supper (since we’re on vacation).
I will be in touch. Just finishing my blogging schedule for guest posts. 🙂
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