Summer Day

Today is all Vaughan Williams and Butterworth
Green and pleasant and buttercups,
As stirring of patriotic sentiments
As Parry's setting of Jerusalem,
Except in the garden which is Grainger.
Beyond the village are brown cows
And gypsophila clouds of Queen Anne's lace,
And even the hideous regiments
Of wind turbine,
Designed to spoil country walks,
Seem symbols of the divine.

Today is Purcell's 'Fairest Isle',
Sung by Alfred Deller, and the danger
Of 'Islamic State' and other news
Pales into insignificance beside
Imagined music for a while
And sweeping views,
Punctuated here and there by architectural hog weed,
Each creamy plate or face
Above straight, hairy stalks,
Which would have Hockney in raptures
In these East Yorkshire pastures,
Hoping to capture
Something of their strength on his iPad.

Today is all 'I Was Glad',
And swallows and swifts at high speed,
And blackbirds and thrushes
And warblers on rushes
And Britten's Serenade For Tenor Horn and Strings
But no strange stirrings,
Just refrains and Quatrains,
And 'queen and huntress chaste and fair',
Though it started with Bartok, sans underwear.