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