The poem is rather schmaltzy, but the line certainly describes what it's like outside. This photo also gives an idea of the uphill road we're all travelling in Canada this week, toward an election when we get rid of Stephen Harper and his Cons. There will be a lot of heated conversation this Canadian Thanksgiving weekend as tens of thousands of people debate what is the best way to do that.
If you feel the need to retreat from the fray, here's the poem which is both dated and too sentimental, but can get your mind off the dilemmas of democracy.
And flowers of June together,
Ye cannot rival for one hour
October's bright blue weather;
Belated, thriftless vagrant,
And Golden-Rod is dying fast,
And lanes with grapes are fragrant;
To save them for the morning,
And chestnuts fall from satin burrs
Without a sound of warning;
In piles like jewels shining,
And redder still on old stone walls
Are leaves of woodbine twining;
Their white-winged seeds are sowing,
And in the fields, still green and fair,
Late aftermaths are growing;
In idle golden freighting,
Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush
Of woods, for winter waiting;
By twos and twos together,
And count like misers, hour by hour,
October's bright blue weather.
Count all your boasts together,
Love loveth best of all the year
October's bright blue weather.
1 comment:
Yes, not the best poet of her day; I'd never heard of Helen Hunt Jackson, but she deserves a lot of merit for her tireless advocacy against the dispossession and destruction of Indigenous American peoples and for recognition of their rights. Do hope a certain PM who shows a similar contempt for Indigenous peoples in Canada (among other things) will be shown the door; quite worried these days. I voted by advance poll on Friday.
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