Posting these purely for the love of oranges and sunsets. Brought to you by the colour orange.
Oranges
Come buy my fine oranges, sauce for your veal,
And charming, when squeezed in a pot of brown ale;
Well roasted, with sugar and wine in a cup,
They’ll make a sweet bishop when gentlefolks sup.
-Jonathan Swift (1667-1745), Poem in the Public Domain
Sunset
Since Poets have told of sunset,
What is left for me to tell?
I can only say that I saw the day
Press crimson lips to the horizon gray,
And kiss the earth farewell.
-Effie Lee Newsome (1885-1979), Poem in the Public Domain
Orchards
Orchards in the Spring-time! Oh, I think and think of them,—
Filmy mists of pink and white above the fresh, young green,
Lifting and drifting,—how my eyes could drink of them,
I’m staring at a dirty wall beyond a big machine.
Orchards in the Spring-time! Deep in soft, cool shadows,—
Moving all together when the west wind blows
Fragrance upon fragrance over road and meadows—
I’m smelling heat and oil and sweat, and thick, black clothes.
Orchards in the Spring-time! The clean white and pink of them
Lifting and drifting with all the winds that blow.
Orchards in the Spring-time! Thank God I still can think of them!
You’re not docked for thinking, — if the foreman doesn’t know.
-Theodosia Garrison (1874-1944), Poem in Public Domain
Oranges and Lemons
Oranges and lemons,
Say the bells of St. Clement’s.
You owe me five farthings,
Say the bells of St. Martin’s.
When will you pay me?
Say the bells at Old Bailey.
When I grow rich,
Say the bells at Shoreditch.
When will that be?
Say the bells of Stepney.
I do not know,
Says the great bell at Bow.
-Traditional English Nursery Rhyme
More food, and specifically fruit, poetry here, and here, and here x
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