BLEUE MAISON by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN

Now to attune my dull soul, if I can,
To the contentment of this countryside
Where man is not for ever killing man
But quiet days like these calm waters glide.
And I will praise the blue flax in the rye,
And pathway bindweed's trumpet-like attire,
Pink rest-harrow and curlock's glistening eye,
And poppies flaring like St. Elmo's fire.

And I will praise the willows silver-gray,
And where I stand the road is rippled over
With airy dreams of blossomed bean and clover,
And shyest birds come elfin-like to play:
And in the rifts of blue above the trees
Pass the full sails of natural Odysseys.

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