The Scarlet Shawl

 The Scarlet Shawl (London: Tinsley Brothers,1874) was the first of Richard Jefferies' novels to be published. It has been dismissed by critics as worthless over the years but it contains many gems of his emerging skills as a nature writer. Robin Stapelford has quoted this 'found poem' from Chapter 5 of the novel -- a 'song' for a warm summer.

Once or twice in a cycle of years

There comes a time when the days of Sunshine

Outnumber the days of cloud and cold

Which in ordinary years

Fill up eight or nine months out of the twelve

~

Then the Sky is blue from May till October ends

The Bright Sun’s continued warmth

Brings out into life millions of tiny beings

Insects whose existence

Depends upon the heat and

~

Who would otherwise have perished

In the germ before they were born

The swallows flourish and in time

When the yellow haze of August comes

Strange visitors from far-off lands

~

Beautiful butterflies of gorgeous hues

And birds whose song has been unheard

For centuries in our clime

Roam through the ‘tropical’ atmosphere

The leaves linger upon the trees

~

And will not fall—the swallows

Gather on the boughs and hold evening parliaments

But cannot decide to begin their voyage

The grass turns brown

But the leaves are brilliant

~

In scarlet and crimson and gold

And the soft warm winds rustle lovingly

Through them—there is an unwonted colour

Upon everything—a mysterious

Change has happened

~

The monotonous green has vanished

And the other hues which it dulled are heightened

Filling the eye with scenes of unsuspected beauty

‘Tis true that the streams dry up

And the cattle pant for thirst

~

And the herbage is turned to hay

As it grows and yields no succulent juices

But the minds of men and women

Are overcome with the drowsy warmth

And the lovers linger in the shadow of the trees

~

Far into the night whose very stars

Seem to emit beat with their light

A slumber from labour and toil

Spreads over the land—the spade falls

The axe lies untouched

~

The pen drops from the fingers

They leave them for the sound of falling waters

Of rustling leaves and singing birds

And the cooling spray of the Sea

‘We will slumber in the Sunshine'

~

‘It is destiny’ they say

Eating the Lotus

Circe the Great Enchantress

Is weaving her charms

She joins the Sirens

~

And her rich low Voice

‘Makes Heaven and Earth drowsy

With the Harmony’