Diary of the Plague Year: Day 44 28 April 2020: The first swallow …

I have just seen the first swallow!

Today I spent most of the day in the shed working on my drawings.

In the late afternoon I walked round zapping the docks. I love docks actually but they do tend to take over and are more-or-less ineradicable. So off with their heads.

As I was walking around I noticed a few flowers …

The first day of the creative writing course arranged by Cork Arts Office. I hope the swallow is a good omen. There seem to be so many birds in the garden this year. The crows actually stand on the windowsills and bang on the glass. Cheeky buggers. Not to mention insects. Sometimes it looks like one of those old fashioned science fictions films with layers of flying machines in the sky only the insects are more haphazard and do not fly in straight formations. I wonder if it is because I will not use any chemicals in the garden whatsoever and only the mildest soap, Dr Bonner’s Castile, in the house. The birds seemed to love it when I mowed the long grass.

Diary of the Plague Year: Day 44 28 April 2020: Quotidian Poetry: Eight Metaphysical Poets Cont’d Thomas Carew (1594/5-1639/40)

Know Celia, (since thou art so proud,)
  ‘Twas I that gave thee thy renown:
Thou hadst, in the forgotten crowd
  Of common beauties, liv’d unknown,
Had not my verse exhal’d thy name
And with it impt the wings of fame.
That killing power is none of thine,
  I gave it to thy voyce, and eyes:
Thy sweets, thy graces, are all mine:
  Thou are my star, shin’st in my skies;
Then dart not from thy borrowed sphere
Lightning on him that fixt thee there.
Tempt me with such affrights no more,
  Lest what I made, I uncreate:
Let fools thy mystique forms adore,
  I’ll know thee in thy mortall state;
Wise Poets that wrapp’d Truth in tales,
Knew her themselves through all her vailes.

An example of 17th century PR.