Samuel Palmer -The valley Thick With Corn
Nature’s Cavalcade
When Hopkins gloried in dappled things
He must have thought of angels’ wings
Of gossamer and cuckoo spit
Of candles flicker-lit
He must have thought of angels’ wings
Of gossamer and cuckoo spit
Of candles flicker-lit
As Palmer did
In silent chapels
In Kentish fields
Of darkening woods
where sunlight hides
In sheepland pastures
where sunlight hides
In sheepland pastures
On downy hills
In buttercup meadows
Where linnet trills
Where linnet trills
The silent raptures
Of sunset light
On autumn trees
Where swoops the kite
Of sunset light
On autumn trees
Where swoops the kite
And evening captures
The thickening shadows
The thickening shadows
The cooling breeze
Midst fields of golden rippling corn
That now adorn the rustic scene
Midst fields of golden rippling corn
That now adorn the rustic scene
Such glory in apple blossom seen
As they, with Blake,
Held in their hand
Those grains of sand
To wonder more
How Nature’s glory
Explains itself
In storm
And stillness
In calm and frenzy
Light and shade
In setting sun
And mounting moon
Held in their hand
Those grains of sand
To wonder more
How Nature’s glory
Explains itself
In storm
And stillness
In calm and frenzy
Light and shade
In setting sun
And mounting moon
The evening’s glaze
In bounteous harvest
Nature’s cavalcade
In bounteous harvest
Nature’s cavalcade
Roland's Ragbag 
An excellent tribute to three masters – so well reflecting their works.
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Thank you, Derrick. I am grateful for your perceptive response.
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