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Giving the passer-by a fuchsia sprinkle bath

Sunday, 9 June, 2013

“The season developed and matured. Another year’s installment of flowers, leaves, nightingales, thrushes, finches, and such ephemeral creatures, took up their positions where only a year ago others had stood in their place when these were nothing more than germs and inorganic particles. Rays from the sunrise drew forth the buds and stretched them into long stalks, lifted up sap in noiseless streams, opened petals, and sucked out scents in invisible jets and breathings.” Thomas Hardy, Tess of the D’Urbervilles

The Lodging House Fuchsias

Mrs Master’s fuchsias hung
Higher and broader and brightly swung
Bell-like, more and more
Over the narrow garden path,
Giving the passer-by a sprinkle bath
In the morning

She put up with their pushful ways
And made us tenderly lift their sprays,
Going to her door:
But when her funeral had to pass
They cut back all the flowery mass
In the morning.

Thomas Hardy (1840 — 1928)

Street fuchsia


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