Sunday, October 17, 2021

Fall, leaves, fall


Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day.

--Emily Brontë


[Photo of Wallingford, VT]

at
Labels:

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Evidence

  I. Where do I live? If I had no address, as many people do not, I could nevertheless say that I lived in the same town as the lilies of th...

  • For Grief
      When you lose someone you love, Your life becomes strange, The ground beneath you becomes fragile, Your thoughts make your eyes unsure; An...
  • I Have Decided
      I have decided to find myself a home  in the mountains, somewhere high up  where one learns to live peacefully in  the cold and the silenc...
  • On the Death of the Beloved
    Though we need to weep your loss, You dwell in that safe place in our hearts, Where no storm or night or pain can reach you. Your love was l...