Newly-harvested fields opposite Old School Garden
‘Suddenly now we see cornfields white,
Ready for harvest, while the summer sun
Shines down with welcome warmth, its brilliant light
Making the heat-haze dance, as one by one
The humming harvesters crawl ‘cross the fields,
And once again good grain the good earth yields.
The roads are busy with the hurrying horde
Of folks on holiday; the heavens are clear
And blue, so very blue, with their reward
For those who have the time to stand and stare.
For there young swallows mount into the sky,
And thistledown upon the breeze dreams by.
Grasshoppers chirr, and where the creeper clings
A peacock butterfly outspreads its wings.’
Category: Norfolk in poetry- Jack Kett
‘The towering clouds recede; the storm has fled;
The dark and angry sky grows clear again.
The thunder faintly rolls, and slowly dies,
And skylarks twitter gladly as they rise.
Now many a flower hangs low a dripping head,
And here and there a patch of levelled grain
Recalls the violence of the summer storm.
The sun returns, the rain-soaked earth grows warm.
Slow and ungainly by the waterside
A solemn toad plods forth, and small snails glide,
Their shining shells enriched by golden rings.
A dragon-fly with wide and wondrous wings
glows like a jewel there among the reeds,
Above the tangle of the water-weeds.’
John (Jack) Kett
from ‘A Late Lark Singing’ (Minerva press 1997)
‘Late lingers now the light, and through the night
A glow creeps eastward round the northern sky.
The sun comes early, quickly rises high,
Shines down upon a world of June delight;
On fields of hay, and lanes where grasses sway,
Their graceful panicles in fine array.
Wild roses, soft of hue, and fragrant briar,
And wayside wastes with poppies set afire.
Now family parties picnic by the stream,
Or roam in wonder under mighty trees,
And little children plough through bracken seas,
Wild fancies flying in a waking dream.
At last dusk falls, and shadowy moths appear
Where honeysuckle scents the evening air.’
John (Jack) Kett
from ‘A Late Lark Singing’ (Minerva press 1997)
‘The bright and busy days of May are here;
The countryside’s ablaze with colours rare
In sun and shower. There’s cricket on the green,
And lilies in the wood, and now are seen
Laburnums pouring gold, tall chestnuts decked
With spires of pink and white, where bees collect
A precious harvest, then away go winging
Past lovely lilacs where a blackbird’s singing.
Old gardeners now their long experience bring
To battle with the weeds; the lawns are neat.
A worried thrush scolds by the garden seat
Her wandering, gaping brood. House-martins cling,
Pied master-builders, on the weathered walls,
And from the woods all day the cuckoo calls.’
John (Jack) Kett
from ‘A Late Lark Singing’ (Minerva press 1997)
‘A soft wind stirs a ripple on the lake;
A water-hen calls once, then hides away.
The silver birch tree’s branches gently sway,
And on the water gay reflections make
Of merry multitudes of dancing leaves
Which rustle in the wind. And now on high
A single swallow from the south soars by.
Beside the woodland’s edge the warm earth heaves
With new life bursting forth. Each bush and tree
Now greener grows, as if with real desire
To help the nesting birds, and to conspire
With them to make concealment quite complete,
While waves of rippling song are flowing free
From skylarks rising from the growing wheat.’
John (Jack) Kett
from ‘A Late Lark Singing’ (Minerva Press, 1997)
‘The lively breezes fleecy flocks are chasing
Across the sky; from field to field go racing
Cloud shadows, hurrying on beneath the sun.
On every side man’s work is being done,
To profit by his time when all around
The life renewed is springing from the ground.
Dawn’s chorus swells; at dusk the blackthorn’s glowing,
Hedges grow green, and chattering children stray
Along the banks where primroses are growing
With daffodils. And on this first warm day
A butterfly with sunlit, yellow wings
Goes gaily gliding by; a robin sings,
And celandines among the mosses gleam,
Casting their gold upon the busy stream.’
Old School Garden 