Victoria - 17.06.2011
HAYMAKING by EDWARD THOMAS
After night's thunder far away had rolled
The fiery day had a kernel sweet of cold,
And in the perfect blue the clouds uncurled,
Like the first gods before they made the world
And misery, swimming the stormless sea
In beauty and in divine gaiety.
The smooth white empty road was lightly strewn
With leaves---the holly's Autumn falls in June--- And
fir cones standing up stiff in the heat.
The mill-foot water tumbled white and lit
With tossing crystals, happier than any crowd
Of children pouring out of school aloud.
And in the little thickets where a sleeper
For ever might lie lost, the nettle-creeper
And garden warbler sang unceasingly;
While over them shrill shrieked in his fierce glee
The swift with wings and tail as sharp and narrow
As if the bow had flown off with the arrow.
Only the scent of woodbine and hay new-mown
Travelled the road. In the field sloping down,
Park-like, to where its willows showed the brook,
Haymakers rested. The tosser lay forsook
Out in the sun; and the long waggon stood
Without its team; it seemed it never would
Move from the shadow of that single yew.
The team, as still, until their task was due,
Beside the labourers enjoyed the shade
That three squat oaks mid-field together made
Upon a circle of grass and weed uncut,
And on the hollow, once a chalk-pit, but
Now brimmed with nut and elder-flower so clean.
The men leaned on their rakes, about to begin,
But still. And all were silent. All was old,
This morning time, with a great age untold,
Older than Clare and Cowper, Morland and Crome,
Than, at the field's far edge, the farmer's home,
A white house crouched at the foot of a great tree.
Under the heavens that know not what years be
The men, the beasts, the trees, the implements
Uttered even what they will in times far hence---
All of us gone out of the reach of change---
Immortal in a picture of an old grange.
About the Photographer In His Own Words
An introduction of my work should start with a short description of Romania. The magic of this country, lies in its landscapes and in its warm people that are living in villages from very close to the sea to the heart of the mountains. Every region has its own specific habits and its own stories, which are making together the beautiful book, called - Romania. Every season is turning slowly page by page from this book, over and over again, for thousands of years. You can still find in these villages carts run by oxen, people working at the looms or in the fields with horses.
I must say that I am very lucky to live in this country, but at the same time, I am sorry to see that day by day something is changing as the modernism is cutting deeper and deeper in our old traditions.
My aim is to find during my walks up and down and around the hills, valleys and villages of Romania, old people and forgotten habits and try to bring back into present something that was lost in the past. The Romanian village is my main motive because I love its people and its habits and because I see it dying.
To find more of Vlad Dumitrescu’s Warm and Engaging photographs of Romania please take a short trip over to 1x.com where you can see many of his photos or enjoy his wonderful blog at the url you see below!
http://vlad-dumitrescu.blogspot.com/ Vlad hails from Brasov, Romania.
Linked to Share the Joy Thursday. For Greater Joy visit Meri’s Musings.Wish her a happy birthday while you are there!
courtesy of Rebecca Brooks @
