Roy Ernest Ballard

Vale Of Swardeston - Poem by Roy Ernest Ballard

I walked along the vale of Swardeston
in mid-July; a biplane crossed the sky,
a rambling relic of another age
as tardy as the bees that bumbled by.

A single bell struck twelve; it sounded near,
with happy, childish, voices, far yet clear.
Along the river mingled mint and sage
and boggy-scented mould perfumed the air.

My questing dog swept through the meadowsweet
but passed discreetly by the royal bowers
of willow herb, a wonder among flowers,
resplendent queen of pink, fantastic towers.

Now winter comes to flood the rutted track
and summer leaves are huddled in the bud;
The wonder is that wonder can come back
but willow herb is waiting in the mud.

Topic(s) of this poem: flowers, walking

Comments about Vale Of Swardeston by Roy Ernest Ballard

  • Margaret O Driscoll (1/19/2016 5:27:00 AM)

    Enjoyed this, lovely imagery, mint and sage, meadowsweet and willow herb, 'summer leaves are huddles in the bud'! (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, January 17, 2016

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