"Dewdrops"
The dewdrops on every blade of grass are so much like silver drops
that I am obliged to stoop down as I walk to see if they are pearls,
and those sprinkled on the ivy-woven beds of primroses underneath
the hazels, whitethorns, and maples are so like gold beads that I
stooped down to feel if they were hard, but they melted from my
finger. And where the dew lies on the primrose, the violet and
whitethorn leaves they are emerald and beryl, yet nothing more than
the dews of the morning on the budding leaves; nay, the road
grasses are covered with gold and silver beads, and the further we go
the brighter they seem to shine, like solid gold and sliver. It is
nothing more than the sun's light and shade upon them in the dewy
morning; every thorn-point and every bramble-spear has its
trembling ornament: till the wind gets a little brisker, and then all is
shaken off, and all the shining jewelry passes away into a common
spring morning full of budding leaves, primroses, violets, vernal
speedwell, bluebell and orchis, and commonplace objects.
that I am obliged to stoop down as I walk to see if they are pearls,
and those sprinkled on the ivy-woven beds of primroses underneath
the hazels, whitethorns, and maples are so like gold beads that I
stooped down to feel if they were hard, but they melted from my
finger. And where the dew lies on the primrose, the violet and
whitethorn leaves they are emerald and beryl, yet nothing more than
the dews of the morning on the budding leaves; nay, the road
grasses are covered with gold and silver beads, and the further we go
the brighter they seem to shine, like solid gold and sliver. It is
nothing more than the sun's light and shade upon them in the dewy
morning; every thorn-point and every bramble-spear has its
trembling ornament: till the wind gets a little brisker, and then all is
shaken off, and all the shining jewelry passes away into a common
spring morning full of budding leaves, primroses, violets, vernal
speedwell, bluebell and orchis, and commonplace objects.
~ John Clare
In my own circumstance, I found a rare patch of grasses and plants sprinkled with dew on this sunny January afternoon. Given the short time that the winking, twinkling little beauties will be there, I feel like I found something special.
Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, 29 yet I tell you, jeven Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. 30 But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, kO you of little faith? (Matt 6: 28-30)
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