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Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Scenes From A Fall...Pure Poetry

 O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stain’d

With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit
Beneath my shady roof; there thou may’st rest,
And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,
And all the daughters of the year shall dance!
Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.

The narrow bud opens her beauties to
The sun, and love runs in her thrilling veins;
Blossoms hang round the brows of Morning, and
Flourish down the bright cheek of modest Eve,
Till clust’ring Summer breaks forth into singing,
And feather’d clouds strew flowers round her head.

The spirits of the air live in the smells
Of fruit; and Joy, with pinions light, roves round
The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.
Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat,
Then rose, girded himself, and o’er the bleak
Hills fled from our sight; but left his golden load.
~William Blake

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
   Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
   With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
   And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
      To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
   With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
      For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
   Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, 
   Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
   Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
      Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
   Steady thy laden head across a brook;
   Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
      Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
   Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
   And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
   Among the river sallows, borne aloft
      Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
   Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
   The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
      And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
~John Keats

Go, sit upon the lofty hill,
And turn your eyes around,
Where waving woods and waters wild
Do hymn an autumn sound.
The summer sun is faint on them —
The summer flowers depart —
Sit still — as all transform’d to stone,
Except your musing heart.

How there you sat in summer-time,
May yet be in your mind;
And how you heard the green woods sing
Beneath the freshening wind.
Though the same wind now blows around,
You would its blast recall;
For every breath that stirs the trees,
Doth cause a leaf to fall.

Oh! like that wind, is all the mirth
That flesh and dust impart:
We cannot bear its visitings,
When change is on the heart.
Gay words and jests may make us smile,
When Sorrow is asleep;
But other things must make us smile,
When Sorrow bids us weep!

The dearest hands that clasp our hands, —
Their presence may be o’er;
The dearest voice that meets our ear,
That tone may come no more!
Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,
Which once refresh’d our mind,
Shall come — as, on those sighing woods,
The chilling autumn wind.

Hear not the wind — view not the woods;
Look out o’er vale and hill —
In spring, the sky encircled them —
The sky is round them still.
Come autumn’s scathe — come winter’s cold —
Come change — and human fate!
Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,
Can ne’er be desolate.
~Elizabeth Barett Browning

Wishing you warm
 Autumn wishes,

Susie Q

Monday, October 07, 2013

October Is Finally Here!

My favorite month of the year, the one I wait for
 with great anticipation, is finally here!
Bring out the cozy sweaters, the hot apple cider. Its time for lazy Sunday
drives in the country to gaze on golden fields and orange trees.

“I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.” 
~L.M. MontgomeryAnne of Green Gables

“There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir: 
We must rise and follow her, When from every hill of flame She calls,
 and calls each vagabond by name.” 
~William Bliss

“October, baptize me with leaves! Swaddle me in corduroy
 and nurse me with split pea soup. October, tuck tiny candy bars
 in my pockets and carve my smile into a thousand pumpkins. 
O autumn! O teakettle! O grace!” 
~Rainbow RowellAttachments

“After the keen still days of September, the October sun filled
 the world with mellow warmth...The maple tree in front of the doorstep
 burned like a gigantic red torch. The oaks along the roadway glowed 
yellow and bronze. The fields stretched like a carpet of jewels,
 emerald and topaz and garnet. Everywhere she walked the color 
shouted and sang around her...In October any wonderful
 unexpected thing might be possible.” 
Elizabeth George SpeareThe Witch of Blackbird Pond

“Autumn flings her fiery cloak over the sumac, beech and oak.” 
Susan LendrothOcean Wide, Ocean Deep

“Anne reveled in the world of color about her."Oh, Marilla," she exclaimed one Saturday morning, coming 
dancing in with her arms full of gorgeous boughs, "I'm so glad 
I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible
 if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn't it? Look 
at these maple branches. Don't they give you a thrill--several thrills?” 
~L.M. MontgomeryAnne of Green Gables

Pale amber sunlight falls across
The reddening October trees,
That hardly sway before a breeze
As soft as summer: summer's loss
Seems little, dear! on days like these.

Let misty autumn be our part!
The twilight of the year is sweet:
Where shadow and the darkness meet
Our love, a twilight of the heart
Eludes a little time's deceit.

Are we not better and at home
In dreamful Autumn, we who deem
No harvest joy is worth a dream?
A little while and night shall come,
A little while, then, let us dream.

Beyond the pearled horizons lie
Winter and night: awaiting these
We garner this poor hour of ease,
Until love turn from us and die
Beneath the drear November trees.” 
~Ernest DowsonThe Poems and

This month is filled with joys and my wish is that you
and yours are able to enjoy them all.

Susie Q