Forth
from the fruitful turf I spring unsown,
My head gleams yellow with its shining flower;
At eve I shut, at sunrise ope again;
Hence the wise Greeks have given my name to me.
Answer:
A sunflower
Though
the war trumpet bray with hollow brass,
The lutes throb sweetly and the bugles call,
My inward parts give forth a hundred notes,
And, when I roar, men hear no other sound.
Answer: An organ
Scarce
lose the sight of eyes in darkest caves,
For hated foes, who waste the heaps of corn,
I silently plan the crafty means of death.
On hunting bound I search the wild things' dens.
Not I with dogs will hunt the flying crowds,
For barking dogs wage cruel wars on me;
To hated race it is I owe my name.
Answer:
A cat
From
cracks of stone I came in molten flood,
While flames were battering the rocky core,
And the loud-roaring furnace brightly glowed.
Now clear as ice am I, capricious too,
And very brittle; men may break my neck,
Taking my slippery body in their hands.
Yet wits I alter, when I kiss men's lips,
And fill their cheeks with Bacchic sweets, and make
Their tottering footsteps bring them to the ground.
Answer: A drinking glass
Of
willow wood and tough bull-hide am I,
And I can stand the shrewdest knocks of war;
With my own frame I guard my warrior's frame
And shield him from death's grip. Who like myself
Has felt as oft the deadly blows of war
And known as many wounds, a soldier bold?
Answer: A shield
My
coat is black and made of wrinkled bark,
And yet within I have a marrow white;
At royal dinners, in the soup and stews
And other meats I play a proper part.
But still no virtue would you find in me,
Were not my inside pounded very fine.
Answer:
Pepper
High
on the cliffs that front the thunderous seas,
While the salt surf goes whistling down the breeze,
Up reared was I, solid in mighty mass,
To show the seaways to the ships that pass.
I never stirred with oars the watery plain,
I never ploughed with sinuous share the main,
And yet, by signal from my lofty scaur
I guide the wave tossed wanderers to the shore;
While murky clouds blot out the stars of night.
Flaming afar I stand a tower of light.
Answer: A lighthouse.
(St Aldhelm's Head may have had one in the old days)
High,
towards the clouds of heaven, at times I swell,
And should you take the head, my body too
Were gone; but if a heavy head me press,
Deep-sinking, half my bulk I seem to lose.
Answer:
A pillow
Reproduced with permission from Sheelagh Wurr. Copies of the booklet can be obtained from the Sarum College Bookshop, Salisbury; SPCK, Salisbury and 31 Pound Street, Warminster, BA12 8NL for £3.50 plus 30p postage.