Tim Baynes Art: When icicles hang by the wall

Friday 27 January 2017

All this chilly weather put me in mind of this marvellous poem . . (my scratching in homage)

III. The Seasons

When icicles hang by the wall

William Shakespeare

From “Love’s Labor ’s Lost,” Act V. Sc. 2.

WHEN icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipped, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-whoo;
To-whit, to-whoo, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson’s saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian’s nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-whoo;
To-whit, to-whoo, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

Tim Baynes Art