Dear Friend,

 

Winter is cold-hearted,

Spring is yea and nay,

Autumn is a weathercock

Blown every way:

Summer days for me

When ever leaf is on its tree;

 

When Robin's not a beggar

And Jenny Wren's a bride,

And larks hand singing, singing, singing,

Over the wheat-fields wide,

And anchored lilies ride,

And the pendulum spider

Swings from side to side,

 

And blue-black beetles transact business,

And gnats fly in a host,

And furry caterpillars hasten

That no time be lost,

And mots grow fat and thrive,

And ladybirds arrive.

 

Before green apples blush,

Before green nuts embrown,

Why, one day in the country

Is worth a month in town;

Is worth a day and a year

Of the dusty, musty, lag-last fashion 

That days drone elsewhere.

Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)

 

Jacob Peeling the Rods

Jacob Peeling the Rods

Guido Cagnacci (1601-1663)

 

With love,

Aimee Flor