Category Archives: poetry

Autumn Idleness

nature, poetry, ,

I heard this last fall on The Daily Poem podcast and listened again and again…. Unfortunately that reading seems not to be online any longer. Note: The repetition of “lost hours” is not a typo.

It’s a beautiful description of a quiet woodland scene in autumn, contrasted with the poet’s indecision and restlessness. He inserts his own feelings into the drama of sunlight and dead leaves, thirst and rest. While in nature nothing is lost, and renewal always comes, it’s not easy for humans, with our conflicted souls, to receive the blessing.

AUTUMN IDLENESS

This sunlight shames November where he grieves
In dead red leaves, and will not let him shun
The day, though bough with bough be over-run.
But with a blessing every glade receives
High salutation; while from hillock-eaves
The deer gaze calling, dappled white and dun,
As if, foresters of old, the sun
Had marked them with the shade of forest-leaves.

Here dawn to-day unveiled her magic glass;
Here noon now gives the thirst and takes the dew;
Till eve bring rest when other good things pass.
And here the lost hours the lost hours renew
While I lead my shadow o’er the grass,
Nor know, for longing, that which I should do.

-Dante Gabriel Rossetti

The robe of folden sunshine.

nature, poetry, ,

Today was the last day of real warmth;
I was luxuriating in it.
Every year it seems harder to see summer finally go,
in the “Indian Summer” fashion. I was waiting to see
if we might have a warm spell this month,
and here it is. So, here also is the poem I had laid by,
for farewell…

INDIAN SUMMER

I have strayed from silent places,
Where the days are dreaming always;
And fair summer lies a-dying,
Roses withered on her breast.
I have stolen all her beauty,
All her softness, all her sweetness;
In her robe of folden sunshine
I am drest.

I will breathe a mist about me
Lest you see my face too clearly,
Lest you follow me too boldly
I will silence every song.
Through the haze and through the silence
You will know that I am passing;
When you break the spell that holds you,
I am gone!

-Isabel Ecclestone Mackay

 

 

By the north wind was I torn.

nature, poetry, , ,

IMITATION

Wandering from the parent bough,
Little, trembling leaf,
Whither goest thou?
‘From the beech, where I was born,
By the north wind was I torn.
Him I follow in his flight,
Over mountain, over vale,
From the forest to the plain,
Up the hill, and down again.
With him ever on the way:
More than that, I cannot say.
Where I go, must all things go,
Gentle, simple, high and low:
Leaves of laurel, leaves of rose;
Whither, heaven only knows!’

-Count Giacomo Leopardi, (1798 – 1837) Italy

Watching for the kingfisher.

birds, poetry, prayer,

DISCLOSURE

Prayer is like watching for the
Kingfisher.
All you can do is
Be where he is likely to appear, and
Wait.
Often, nothing much happens;
There is space, silence and
Expectancy.
No visible sign, only the
Knowledge that he’s been there
And may come again.
Seeing or not seeing cease to matter,
You have been prepared.
But when you’ve almost stopped
Expecting it, a flash of brightness
Gives encouragement.

-Anne Lewin