Close up of letter from H.M. Ward to his mother, reading: ‘July 20: I have just got the second batch of your poems. I strongly advise you to be careful, the ideas are…& poetical to a degree; but you…too apt to lose the on the metre on you…in technical construction.
Handwritten poem by J Fraser, titled ‘The Corn Poppy’ with a sentence crossed out then four stanzas reading:
“The scarlet poppy reddens daily, Amongst the cornfields blossoms gaily, Makes comely neighbours wanton palely, and dazzles all beneath the skies, But beckons me with swanting [sic] eyes.
Uh! Could I like the gliding swallow, Explore the vale and upland follows, No more in smoky dens I’d swallow, No longer breathe the air that falls Midst crowded streets and staring walls.
Then would I bid adieu to collow, And scour the…height and hollow, Un…the downs and blithely follow, along the fields where bright corn rose – The glorious flaming poppy – glows.
To-day would have no room for sorrow, No boding thoughts to gloom to-morrow, And each day after fair would borrow Another glide along the plain, to search amongst the bended grain’”
Loose papers, with handwritten poem on top of five stanzas, the second of which is crossed out then rewritten underneath. It reads:
“The transport bent by wholesome breezes, Where charming guise of landscape pleases, Brings life amend, as man can…., and genders thanks for flow’r so fair, That smile and make my errand there.
I love to see the wild bee settle, Upon the smooth and silky petal, And laugh to view its ardent mettle, When tumbling round the…flow’r, Collecting bee bread hour by hour.
The longest day draws with gloaming, And puts an end to handsome roaming; I grieve to mark its shadows coming, But more to think when day is blind, that I must leave my flow’r behind.
The corn, the poppy, bee and ether, And birds that wing on airy feather, all choose the wilds and hang together, Beneath the great and blue sky-dome, And I must visit them at home”
Signed at end: J.F., March 15th 1919
Botanist or poet? For National Poetry Day, we discovered poetry hidden amongst the personal papers of botanists - from J. Fraser’s 1919 poem on poppies to H.M Ward’s critique’s on his mother’s poetry!
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