Sep 21, 2011

Autumnal Sun

I Am The Autumnal Sun ~ by Henry David Thoreau

Sometimes a mortal feels in himself Nature
-- not his Father but his Mother stirs
within him, and he becomes immortal with her
immortality. From time to time she claims
kindredship with us, and some globule
from her veins steals up into our own.

I am the autumnal sun,
With autumn gales my race is run;
When will the hazel put forth its flowers,
Or the grape ripen under my bowers?
When will the harvest or the hunter's moon
Turn my midnight into mid-noon?
I am all sere and yellow,
And to my core mellow.
The mast is dropping within my woods,
The winter is lurking within my moods,
And the rustling of the withered leaf
Is the constant music of my grief....


Debra She Who Seeks said...

Hey, Thoreau, good one!

The Artful Gypsy aka Wendy the Very Good Witch said... lovely! Love Thoreau! Thank you for sharing!

mermaid gallery said...

it is a sad time of year.....

Bird said...

Beautiful. Hauntingly beautiful.

cargillwitch said...

look at all the lovely squash- mine were such a disappointment this year

jaz@octoberfarm said...

i can't remember how to do the practical magic thing! do i post it and you link to it or do i send you pics?

Rue said...

@Jaz - go to the PMBP Blog:

and post the link to your Practical Magic post. That's it! I think the posts need to be up by tonight, but I'm going I'll have mine up this morning sometime.

Wulf said...

Great squashes! The green striped Delicata ones at the front are my absolute favourites. Haven't found any in the markets here this year.