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Field of golden buttercups at Newgrange beside the flowing Boyne.
Buttercups in the landscape are a bit undervalued as no poet has ever written about buttercups like this:
A host of golden buttercups,
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine,
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

Perhaps someone out there should pen an ode to the buttercups.

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Comment by Norah Blount on June 18, 2013 at 20:20

Sally I hope someone is keeping a record of all these lovely poems - did you write that one? its lovely and paints another picture 

Comment by deirdre shanny on June 18, 2013 at 20:11

Wonderful sean.summer sunshine all in one field.

Comment by Sean Quinn on June 18, 2013 at 19:25

Thanks Sally, Norah, Patrick and Julia.       Sally, I didn't realize those lines were your original composition as I was Googling them to find the original poem.   Love the "transfigure into youths again, full of careless awe".     And Norah, thanks for the reminder of "Snowdrops and daffolils, BUTTERCUPS and bees ......"

Comment by Julia Yakub on June 18, 2013 at 16:27

Well done, Sean. Really beautiful painting.

Comment by Patrick T Daly on June 18, 2013 at 13:32

Very impressive Sean - some wonderful poetic imagery

Comment by Norah Blount on June 17, 2013 at 20:37

Snowdrops and daffodils, buttercups and bees...........beautiful Sean

Comment by Sally Downey on June 17, 2013 at 16:04

Painting Buttercups

 

Among the buttercups they sat,

Three painters, each enveloped

In the Sights, the Sounds, the Smells of Summer.

 

Despite the accretion of their years of life’s ups and downs

Here among the devil’s bread, the flaggers and the golden gaiety of the Little Children’s Dower*,

Wise and mature they transfigure into youths again, full of careless awe and optimism.

 

(No thesaurus was used in the making of this poem)

 

Home Thoughts, From Abroad

And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,
All will be gay when noontide wakes anew
The buttercups, the little children's dower*
—Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower! 

Robert Browning

Comment by Sally Downey on June 17, 2013 at 16:03

 Great painting of Field of Gold. You captured that mystical atmosphere again! Thank you re your kind remarks about Whitethorn 11.

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