ladylinda
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October
Oct 1, 2014 16:05:33 GMT -5
Post by ladylinda on Oct 1, 2014 16:05:33 GMT -5
The theme this month will be poems about October, autumn again (continuing till November and including that) and wind.
How better to start an October poem series than with this great piece by Dylan Thomas.
Dylan Thomas
Especially when the October wind With frosty fingers punishes my hair, Caught by the crabbing sun I walk on fire And cast a shadow crab upon the land, By the sea's side, hearing the noise of birds, Hearing the raven cough in winter sticks, My busy heart who shudders as she talks Sheds the syllabic blood and drains her words.
Shut, too, in a tower of words, I mark On the horizon walking like the trees The wordy shapes of women, and the rows Of the star-gestured children in the park. Some let me make you of the vowelled beeches, Some of the oaken voices, from the roots Of many a thorny shire tell you notes, Some let me make you of the water's speeches.
Behind a pot of ferns the wagging clock Tells me the hour's word, the neural meaning Flies on the shafted disk, declaims the morning And tells the windy weather in the cock. Some let me make you of the meadow's signs; The signal grass that tells me all I know Breaks with the wormy winter through the eye. Some let me tell you of the raven's sins.
Especially when the October wind (Some let me make you of autumnal spells, The spider-tongued, and the loud hill of Wales) With fists of turnips punishes the land, Some let me make you of the heartless words. The heart is drained that, spelling in the scurry Of chemic blood, warned of the coming fury. By the sea's side hear the dark-vowelled birds.
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ladylinda
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October
Oct 1, 2014 16:07:07 GMT -5
Post by ladylinda on Oct 1, 2014 16:07:07 GMT -5
Autumn Feelings
Johann von Goethe
FLOURISH greener, as ye clamber, Oh ye leaves, to seek my chamber,
Up the trellis'd vine on high! May ye swell, twin-berries tender, Juicier far,--and with more splendour
Ripen, and more speedily! O'er ye broods the sun at even As he sinks to rest, and heaven
Softly breathes into your ear All its fertilising fullness, While the moon's refreshing coolness,
Magic-laden, hovers near; And, alas! ye're watered ever
By a stream of tears that rill From mine eyes--tears ceasing never,
Tears of love that nought can still!
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ladylinda
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October
Oct 1, 2014 16:10:03 GMT -5
Post by ladylinda on Oct 1, 2014 16:10:03 GMT -5
Ode to the West Wind
Percy Bysshe Shelley
O WILD West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being¡ Thou from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes!¡ªO thou Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The wing¨¨d seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) With living hues and odours plain and hill¡ Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere¡ Destroyer and Preserver¡ªhear, O hear!
Thou on whose stream, 'mid the steep sky's commotion, Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean, Angels of rain and lightning! they are spread On the blue surface of thine airy surge, Like the bright hair uplifted from the head Of some fierce M?nad, ev'n from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith's height¡ª The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge Of the dying year, to which this closing night Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre, Vaulted with all thy congregated might Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst:¡ªO hear!
Thou who didst waken from his summer-dreams The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, Lull'd by the coil of his crystalline streams, Beside a pumice isle in Bai?'s bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave's intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss, and flowers So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou For whose path the Atlantic's level powers Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear The sapless foliage of the ocean, know Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear And tremble and despoil themselves:¡ªO hear!
If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear; If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee; A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share The impulse of thy strength, only less free Than thou, O uncontrollable!¡ªif even I were as in my boyhood, and could be The comrade of thy wanderings over heaven, As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed Scarce seem'd a vision,¡ªI would ne'er have striven As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need. O lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed! A heavy weight of hours has chain'd and bow'd One too like thee¡ªtameless, and swift, and proud.
Make me thy lyre, ev'n as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! be thou me, impetuous one! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe, Like wither'd leaves, to quicken a new birth; And, by the incantation of this verse, Scatter, as from an unextinguish'd hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! Be through my lips to unawaken'd earth The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
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ladylinda
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October
Oct 2, 2014 11:13:10 GMT -5
Post by ladylinda on Oct 2, 2014 11:13:10 GMT -5
Another October poem by Dylan Thomas
POEM IN OCTOBER
Dylan Thomas
It was my thirtieth year to heaven Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood And the mussel pooled and the heron Priested shore The morning beckon With water praying and call of seagull and rook And the knock of sailing boats on the webbed wall Myself to set foot That second In the still sleeping town and set forth.
My birthday began with the water- Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name Above the farms and the white horses And I rose In a rainy autumn And walked abroad in shower of all my days High tide and the heron dived when I took the road Over the border And the gates Of the town closed as the town awoke.
A springful of larks in a rolling Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling Blackbirds and the sun of October Summery On the hill's shoulder, Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly Come in the morning where I wandered and listened To the rain wringing Wind blow cold In the wood faraway under me.
Pale rain over the dwindling harbour And over the sea wet church the size of a snail With its horns through mist and the castle Brown as owls But all the gardens Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud. There could I marvel My birthday Away but the weather turned around.
It turned away from the blithe country And down the other air and the blue altered sky Streamed again a wonder of summer With apples Pears and red currants And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother Through the parables Of sunlight And the legends of the green chapels
And the twice told fields of infancy That his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine. These were the woods the river and the sea Where a boy In the listening Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide. And the mystery Sang alive Still in the water and singing birds.
And there could I marvel my birthday Away but the weather turned around. And the true Joy of the long dead child sang burning In the sun. It was my thirtieth Year to heaven stood there then in the summer noon Though the town below lay leaved with October blood. O may my heart's truth Still be sung On this high hill in a year's turning.
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ladylinda
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October
Oct 2, 2014 11:14:35 GMT -5
Post by ladylinda on Oct 2, 2014 11:14:35 GMT -5
The Autumn
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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.
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ladylinda
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October
Oct 2, 2014 11:16:19 GMT -5
Post by ladylinda on Oct 2, 2014 11:16:19 GMT -5
The Wind
Robert Louis Stevenson
I saw you toss the kites on high And blow the birds about the sky; And all around I heard you pass, Like ladies' skirts across the grass— O wind, a-blowing all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song!
I saw the different things you did, But always you yourself you hid. I felt you push, I heard you call, I could not see yourself at all— O wind, a-blowing all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song!
O you that are so strong and cold, O blower, are you young or old? Are you a beast of field and tree, Or just a stronger child than me? O wind, a-blowing all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song!
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October
Oct 2, 2014 13:42:32 GMT -5
Post by beth on Oct 2, 2014 13:42:32 GMT -5
One of my favorite autumn poems.
Helen Hunt Jackson (1830-1885) October's Bright Blue Weather
O SUNS and skies and clouds of June, And flowers of June together, Ye cannot rival for one hour October's bright blue weather;
When loud the bumble-bee makes haste, Belated, thriftless vagrant, And Golden-Rod is dying fast, And lanes with grapes are fragrant;
When Gentians roll their fringes tight To save them for the morning, And chestnuts fall from satin burrs Without a sound of warning;
When on the ground red apples lie In piles like jewels shining, And redder still on old stone walls Are leaves of woodbine twining;
When all the lovely wayside things Their white-winged seeds are sowing, And in the fields, still green and fair, Late aftermaths are growing;
When springs run low, and on the brooks, In idle golden freighting, Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush Of woods, for winter waiting;
When comrades seek sweet country haunts, By twos and twos together, And count like misers, hour by hour, October's bright blue weather.
O suns and skies and flowers of June, Count all your boasts together, Love loveth best of all the year October's bright blue weather.
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ladylinda
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October
Oct 4, 2014 16:46:40 GMT -5
Post by ladylinda on Oct 4, 2014 16:46:40 GMT -5
Thanks for that, Beth; it's lovely. Here are some more.
October
Robert Frost
O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild, Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call; Tomorrow they may form and go. O hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow. Make the day seem to us less brief. Hearts not averse to being beguiled, Beguile us in the way you know. Release one leaf at break of day; At noon release another leaf; One from our trees, one far away. Retard the sun with gentle mist; Enchant the land with amethyst. Slow, slow! For the grapes’ sake, if they were all, Whose leaves already are burnt with frost, Whose clustered fruit must else be lost— For the grapes’ sake along the wall.
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ladylinda
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October
Oct 4, 2014 16:46:56 GMT -5
Post by ladylinda on Oct 4, 2014 16:46:56 GMT -5
Autumn
Stevie Smith
He told his life story to Mrs. Courtly Who was a widow. 'Let us get married shortly', He said. 'I am no longer passionate, But we can have some conversation before it is too late.'
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ladylinda
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Post by ladylinda on Oct 4, 2014 16:47:10 GMT -5
Wind On The Hill
A A Milne
No one can tell me, Nobody knows, Where the wind comes from, Where the wind goes.
It's flying from somewhere As fast as it can, I couldn't keep up with it, Not if I ran.
But if I stopped holding The string of my kite, It would blow with the wind For a day and a night.
And then when I found it, Wherever it blew, I should know that the wind Had been going there too.
So then I could tell them Where the wind goes… But where the wind comes from Nobody knows.
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October
Oct 4, 2014 20:41:12 GMT -5
Post by annaj26 on Oct 4, 2014 20:41:12 GMT -5
Wind On The Hill A A Milne No one can tell me, Nobody knows, Where the wind comes from, Where the wind goes. It's flying from somewhere As fast as it can, I couldn't keep up with it, Not if I ran. But if I stopped holding The string of my kite, It would blow with the wind For a day and a night. And then when I found it, Wherever it blew, I should know that the wind Had been going there too. So then I could tell them Where the wind goes… But where the wind comes from Nobody knows. I like this one. Crossed my mind that it could be from one of the Pooh books (Christopher Robin speaking).
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ladylinda
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October
Oct 5, 2014 17:22:02 GMT -5
Post by ladylinda on Oct 5, 2014 17:22:02 GMT -5
October's Party
George Cooper
October gave a party; The leaves by hundreds came- The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples, And leaves of every name. The Sunshine spread a carpet, And everything was grand, Miss Weather led the dancing, Professor Wind the band.
The Chestnuts came in yellow, The Oaks in crimson dressed; The lovely Misses Maple In scarlet looked their best; All balanced to their partners, And gaily fluttered by; The sight was like a rainbow New fallen from the sky.
Then, in the rustic hollow, At hide-and-seek they played, The party closed at sundown, And everybody stayed. Professor Wind played louder; They flew along the ground; And then the party ended In jolly "hands around."
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ladylinda
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October
Oct 5, 2014 17:22:22 GMT -5
Post by ladylinda on Oct 5, 2014 17:22:22 GMT -5
Autumn in the Garden
Henry Van Dyke
When the frosty kiss of Autumn in the dark Makes its mark On the flowers, and the misty morning grieves Over fallen leaves; Then my olden garden, where the golden soil Through the toil Of a hundred years is mellow, rich, and deep, Whispers in its sleep.
'Mid the crumpled beds of marigold and phlox, Where the box Borders with its glossy green the ancient walks, There's a voice that talks Of the human hopes that bloomed and withered here Year by year,-- Dreams of joy, that brightened all the labouring hours, Fading as the flowers.
Yet the whispered story does not deepen grief; But relief For the loneliness of sorrow seems to flow From the Long-Ago, When I think of other lives that learned, like mine, To resign, And remember that the sadness of the fall Comes alike to all.
What regrets, what longings for the lost were theirs! And what prayers For the silent strength that nerves us to endure Things we cannot cure! Pacing up and down the garden where they paced, I have traced All their well-worn paths of patience, till I find Comfort in my mind.
Faint and far away their ancient griefs appear: Yet how near Is the tender voice, the careworn, kindly face, Of the human race! Let us walk together in the garden, dearest heart, Not apart! They who know the sorrows other lives have known Never walk alone.
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ladylinda
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October
Oct 5, 2014 17:22:41 GMT -5
Post by ladylinda on Oct 5, 2014 17:22:41 GMT -5
Who Has Seen the Wind?
Christina Rossetti
Who has seen the wind? Neither I nor you: But when the leaves hang trembling, The wind is passing through.
Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I: But when the trees bow down their heads, The wind is passing by.
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ladylinda
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October
Oct 7, 2014 16:20:46 GMT -5
Post by ladylinda on Oct 7, 2014 16:20:46 GMT -5
October
Siegfried Sassoon
Across the land a faint blue veil of mist Seems hung; the woods wear yet arrayment sober Till frost shall make them flame; silent and whist The drooping cherry orchards of October Like mournful pennons hang their shrivelling leaves 5 Russet and orange: all things now decay; Long since ye garnered in your autumn sheaves And sad the robins pipe at set of day.
Now do ye dream of Spring when greening shaws Confer with the shrewd breezes and of slopes 10 Flower-kirtled and of April virgin guest; Days that ye love despite their windy flaws Since they are woven with all joys and hopes Whereof ye nevermore shall be possessed.
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