The field mouse poem. The Field Mouse · Poem by Gillian Clarke on blog.sigma-systems.com 2022-12-26
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The Field Mouse is a poem that tells the story of a small, timid mouse who lives in a field and spends his days scurrying about, gathering seeds and nuts to eat. The mouse is constantly on the lookout for danger, as he is prey to many larger animals such as birds of prey, foxes, and even humans. Despite the challenges he faces, the field mouse persists, driven by a desire to survive and thrive in his natural habitat.
The poem is written in the first person, allowing the reader to experience the world through the eyes of the field mouse. The language is simple and straightforward, painting a vivid picture of the mouse's daily life and struggles. The poem also uses vivid imagery to convey the beauty and harshness of the natural world.
One of the most striking aspects of The Field Mouse is the sense of vulnerability and resilience that the mouse embodies. The poem speaks to the struggle for survival that is a fundamental part of life in the wild, and the lengths to which animals must go in order to thrive. Despite the dangers that lurk around every corner, the field mouse perseveres, driven by an innate desire to live and thrive in his natural habitat.
The Field Mouse is also a poignant reminder of the beauty and complexity of the natural world, and the delicate balance of life that exists within it. The poem speaks to the interconnectedness of all living things, and the ways in which the struggles of one creature can impact the lives of others.
Overall, The Field Mouse is a moving and thought-provoking poem that offers a glimpse into the life of a small, yet mighty creature. It speaks to the resilience and determination that is required to survive in the natural world, and the beauty and complexity of the world around us.
Carol of the Field Mice by Kenneth Grahame
For centuries we have been fighting against our own kind and for what purpose? We think so — and we hope the following collection of classic rodent poems supports such a claim. I live among the grasses, And watch them growing high, And as the summer passes They seem to touch the sky. It curls in agony big as itself and the star goes out in its eye. All day we lie close curled In drowsy sleep, nor rise Till through the dusky skies The moon shines o'er the corn, And the beetle drones his horn,. He is the author of, among others, and Image bottom : Illustration of the Pied Piper of Hamelin by Kate Greenaway, via. It is one of the most famous examples of concrete poetry in English — i.
The Field Mouse · Poem by Gillian Clarke on blog.sigma-systems.com
Severed heads being carried by children. Continue to explore the link between pets and poets with these — perhaps the best poetry anthology on the market. For a lot of people, war is a lonely, cold, dangerous time, where family members are lost in a tragic battle. Remarque and Crane both want to convey a message of harmony by distinctly delineating the destructiveness, dehumanization, and the ridiculousness of war. The best mouse poems selected by Dr Oliver Tearle Are there really that many classic poems about mice, rats, and other rodents? Till warm weather comes again, Then once more I see you peeping Round about the tall tree roots, Nibbling at their fallen fruits.
War splits families and friends, causes physiological damage to those in battle, and kills innocent citizens caught in the middle. What is it good for? Fieldmouse, fieldmouse, do not go, Where the farmer stacks his treasure, Find the nut that falls below, Eat the acorn at your pleasure, But you must not steal the grain He has stacked with so much pain. The child come running through the killed flowers, his hands a nest of quivering mouse, its black eyes two sparks burning. The Bumble, fat and furry, A flying visit pays, And Caterpillars hurry Adown the grassy ways. Fieldmouse, fieldmouse, do not go, Where the farmer stacks his treasure, Find the nut that falls below, Eat the acorn at your pleasure, But you must not steal the grain He has stacked with so much pain. And we climb with tiny feet And we munch the green corn sweet With startled eyes for fear The white owl should fly near, Or long slim weasel spring Upon us where we swing.
The Fieldmouse · Poem by Cecil Frances Alexander on blog.sigma-systems.com
Over the hedge our neighbour travels his field in a cloud of lime, drifting our land with a chance gift of sweetness. Though he began successfully writing and publishing in his twenties, Kenneth spent nearly 30 years working for the Bank of England. It curls in agony big as itself and the star goes out in its eye. Goodman Joseph toiled through the snow— Saw the star o'er a stable low; Mary she might not further go— Welcome thatch, and litter below! Where the acorn tumbles down, Where the ash tree sheds its berry, With your fur so soft and brown, With your eye so round and merry, Scarcely moving the long grass, Fieldmouse, I can see you pass. The air hums with jets. We know it will die and ought to finish it off.
Droll rat, they would shoot you if they knew Your cosmopolitan sympathies … This poem by one of the 9. Keep away from corn and house, None will harm you, little mouse. Purchasing books through any poet's Amazon links helps to support Your Daily Poem. Little thing, in what dark den, Lie you all the winter sleeping? War is thrilling; war is drudgery. All night I dream the children dance in grass their bones brittle as mouse ribs, the air stammering with gunfire, my neighbour turned stranger, wounding my land with stones. She could not wade, her legs they were so short; She could not swim; she had no horse to ride; So she was forced, upon the bank, to bide. A paddock an old word for a frog offers to help, with disastrous results.
Not everyone is born a fighter, some are peer pressured into volunteering not knowing the treacherous path ahead of them. In All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque, WWI soldiers learn the cold hard facts about how nothing good comes out of wars. . War brings out the horrifying and gratuitous violence in humanity. The air hums with jets. The Earwig comes a-calling, The Ladybird as well, And snails go slowly crawling, And Slugs, without a shell. Make your hole where mosses spring, Underneath the tall oak's shadow, Pretty, quiet, harmless thing, Play about the sunny meadow.
Ask for this YDP anthology at your favorite bookstore or order it online today! Previous Carol of the Field Mice by Kenneth Grahame Next Villagers all, this frosty tide, Let your doors swing open wide, Though wind may follow, and snow beside, Yet draw us in by your fire to bide; Joy shall be yours in the morning! But then the mouse disappears — leaving Roethke wondering what has happened to it, and where it went. Keep away from corn and house, None will harm you, little mouse. Little thing, in what dark den, Lie you all the winter sleeping? Throughout the book Remarque uses symbolism to express the gruesome effects on soldiers. Where the acorn tumbles down, Where the ash tree sheds its berry, With your fur so soft and brown, With your eye so round and merry, Scarcely moving the long grass, Fieldmouse, I can see you pass. This is quite ironic since a great amount of people go to war even though they think that it is unnecessary. But when she sees the bustle and danger of town life, the country mouse decides to go home to her simpler, safer existence. The one I really like is on Kiltartan Road Christmas, with a folksy dance melody on a fiddle.
All afternoon its wave breaks before the tractor blade. And then they heard the angels tell 'Who were the first to cry NOWELL? The child come running through the killed flowers, his hands a nest of quivering mouse, its black eyes two sparks burning. Till warm weather comes again, Then once more I see you peeping Round about the tall tree roots, Nibbling at their fallen fruits. Here we stand in the cold and the sleet, Blowing fingers and stamping feet, Come from far away you to greet— You by the fire and we in the street— Bidding you joy in the morning! Even today, turn on the TV any day of the week and we will be confronted by horrifying images straight out of a horror movie. All night I dream the children dance in grass their bones brittle as mouse ribs, the air stammering with gunfire, my neighbour turned stranger, wounding my land with stones. This poem is in the public domain.
War is nasty; war is fun. Summer in Europe, the fields hurt, and the children kneel in long grass, staring at what we have crushed. His mother died when he was five, and his father was an alcoholic, so Kenneth and his siblings were raised by their maternal grandmother. Post New Comment: Wilda Morris: I had forgotten about this poem! His best known books are The Wind in the Willows and The Reluctant Dragon. We know it will die and ought to finish it off.
I am your little brother, A Mouse in brown and grey, So if we meet each other, Please let me run away! We do no hurt at all: Is there not room for all Within the happy world? Summer, and the long grass is a snare drum. Joy shall be theirs in the morning! Thank you for publishing it. A heart-breaking poem for anyone who has ever lost a pet. The author of this article, Dr Oliver Tearle, is a literary critic and lecturer in English at Loughborough University. When the moon shines o'er the corn And the beetle drones his horn, And the flittermice swift fly, And the nightjars swooping cry, And the young hares run and leap, We waken from our sleep.
