torsdag 1 november 2012


 This is the treacherous month when autumn days
With summer's voice come bearing summer's gifts.
Beguiled, the pale down-trodden aster lifts
Her head and blooms again. The soft, warm haze
Makes moist once more the sere and dusty ways,
And, creeping through where dead leaves lie in drifts,
The violet returns. Snow noiseless sifts
Ere night, an icy shroud, which morning's rays
Will idly shine upon and slowly melt,
Too late to bid the violet live again.
The treachery, at last, too late, is plain;
Bare are the places where the sweet flowers dwelt.
What joy sufficient hath November felt?
What profit from the violet's day of pain?
                                                                                        Helen Jackson Hunt

6 kommentarer:

  1. May your November be a good month, full of peace.

    1. Thank you Kristi,
      I do hope all is well with you - I haven't had time (or energy) to visit you lately, but hope to do so soon.
      All the best,

  2. You are inspiring me to read more poetry.

    Thank you,
    Your blogging sister, Connie

    1. Connie,
      If you haven't discovered Project Gutenberg yet, I can recommend you to go there. You'll find plenty of poetry, as well as a lot of other interesting books!

  3. Hello, Margaretha, I'm back at my desk after a long, complicated time away. I am catching up on your lovely poems and pictures.

  4. Maureen,
    Good to hear that you're back at yout desk!
    I'm afraid that it will take quite a while before I'm back here on a regulare basis.
    take care!