The Hedgehog

hh-learEdward Lear (1812 – 1888)

 

Letter from Ted Hughes to Edna Wholey, 1950

Last night as I was coming down the field I heard a commotion in the hedge, and after a while, out trundled a hedgehog, merry as you like, and obviously out for a good time. I thought he might make a jolly companion for an evening so I brought him in.
After a while I noticed he had disappeared and later heard a noise just like the sobbing of a little child, but very faint, and it continued for long enough. I traced it to a pile of boxes, and there was my comrade, with his nose pressed in a corner in a pool of tears, and his face all wet, and snivelling and snuffling his heart out. I could have kissed him for compassion.
I don’t know why I’m so sympathetic towards hedgehogs. Once when John & I threw one in the pond, it nearly broke my heart to see it swimming to the shore. It must be that they’re something my affection can’t touch, and as through all my life the things I’ve loved best have been prickles towards that love, hedgehogs have become a symbol of such unrequiteable desire, and move me so nostalgically.
I carried sad Harry outside and let him go—he wouldn’t even roll up he was so sad.

 

Published in: on December 18, 2016 at 9:37 pm  Comments (1)  
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To the Innocents

 

Go, smiling souls, your new-built cages break,
In heaven you’ll learn to sing, ere here to speak,

Nor let the milky fonts that bathe your thirst
                                           Be your delay;
The place that calls you hence is, at the worst,
                                           Milk all the way.

 

Richard Crashaw (c. 1613 – 1649) 

Published in: on July 18, 2014 at 5:38 am  Leave a Comment  
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looks like Roelandt Savery signature to me

Published in: on May 17, 2014 at 2:34 am  Comments (2)  
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Sorrow

silent_sorrow

Published in: on May 11, 2013 at 12:24 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Peace

peace-fort-hamiltonPeace Fort Hamilton
William Merritt Chase (1849 – 1916)

Hearing the Grass Grow

Gerbil, Jacopo Ligozzi (1547–1627)

That element of tragedy which lies in the very fact of frequency, has not yet wrought itself into the coarse emotion of mankind; and perhaps our frames could hardly bear much of it. If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary … life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel’s heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence. As it is, the quickest of us walk about well wadded with stupidity.

George Eliot
‘Middlemarch’