Happy Keltik New Year! :)

Dear Members, Alumni, & Friends of the James Scholar Advisory & Leadership Team:

The autumn chill is definitely upon us now, and in the next few weeks, all kinds of things will be happening, such as Halloween (the Keltik New Year’s Eve) on October 31^st; the return of Central Standard Time on November 1^st; Veterans’ Day on November 11^th. WOW – so many things to celebrate as autumn turns into winter and the holiday season rapidly approaches! Here is a collection of poems for you to enjoy as the calendar keeps rolling along…

Little Orphant Annie (1885)

By James Whitcomb Riley (1849-1916)

Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,

An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,

An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,

An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep;

An' all us other children, when the supper-things is done,

We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun

A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about,

An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you

Ef you

Don't

Watch

Out!

Wunst they wuz a little boy wouldn't say his prayers,--

An' when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs,

His Mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him bawl,

An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wuzn't there at all!

An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press,

An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'-wheres, I guess;

But all they ever found wuz thist his pants an' roundabout:--

An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you

Ef you

Don't

Watch

Out!

An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin,

An' make fun of ever' one, an' all her blood-an'-kin;

An' wunst, when they was "company," an' ole folks wuz there,

She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care!

An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide,

They wuz two great big [Shadows] a-standin' by her side,

An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about!

An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you

Ef you

Don't

Watch

Out!

An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue,

An' the lamp-wick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo!

An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray,

An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away,--

You better mind yer parunts, an' yer teachurs fond an' dear,

An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear,

An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about,

Er the Gobble-uns 'll git you

Ef you

Don't

Watch

Out!

“Autumn” (1845)

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

Thou comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain,
With banners, by great gales incessant fanned,
Brighter than brightest silks of Samarkand,
And stately oxen harnessed to thy wain!
Thou standest, like imperial Charlemagne,
Upon thy bridge of gold; thy royal hand
Outstretched with benedictions o’er the land,
Blessing the farms through all thy vast domain!
Thy shield is the red Harvest Moon, suspended
So long beneath the heaven’s o’er-hanging eaves;
Thy steps are by the farmer’s prayers attended;
Like flames upon an altar shine the sheaves;
And, following thee, in thy ovation splendid,
Thine almoner, the wind, scatters the golden leaves!

“A Lyric of Autumn” (1904)

By William Stanley Braithwaite (1878-1962)

There is music in the meadows, in the air --

Autumn is here;

Skies are gray, but hearts are mellow,

Leaves are crimson, brown, and yellow;

Pines are soughing, birches stir,

And the Gypsy trail is fresh beneath the fir.

There is rhythm in the woods, and in the fields,

Nature yields:

And the harvest voices crying,

Blend with Autumn zephyrs sighing;

Tone and color, frost and fire,

Wings the nocturne Nature plays upon her lyre.

“A Song of Suns and Seasons”

By George MacDonald (1824-1905)

Excerpted from At the Back of the North Wind (1871) – Chapter 37

The Sun is gone down,

And the Moon’s in the sky;

But the Sun will come up,

And the Moon be laid by.

The flower is asleep

But it is not dead;

When the morning shines,

It will lift its head.

When winter comes,

It will die – no, no;

It will only hide

From the frost and the snow.

Sure is the summer,

Sure is the Sun;

The night and the winter

Are shadows that run.

Happy Keltik New Year to one and all!

Rob