Lammastide Greetings!

Dear Members, Alumni, & Friends of the JSMT:

Next Thursday, August 7^th, at 9:07 AM (CDT), marks the halfway point between the Midsummer Solstice (on June 21^st) and the Midautumn Equinox (on September 22^nd). For our agrarian ancestors, this date (known as Lammas Day among the Keltik peoples of NW Europe) was one of the four “cross-quarter days” that marked the transitions between the four seasons of the traditional agricultural “wheel of the year.” The harvest season is about to begin in many parts of the Northern Hemisphere, and school is already in session for many students across the United States. So let’s take a look at a few poems about the end of summertime, the changing seasons, and the beginning of the harvest.

“The Summer Sun Shone Round Me”

By Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)

The summer sun shone round me,

The folded valley lay

In a stream of sun and odor,

That sultry summer day.

The tall trees stood in the sunlight

As still as still could be,

But the deep grass sighed and rustled

And bowed and beckoned me.

The deep grass moved and whispered

And bowed and brushed my face.

It whispered in the sunshine:

“The winter comes apace.”

“A Calendar of Sonnets: August”

By Helen Hunt Jackson (1830-1885)

Silence again. The glorious symphony

Hath need of pause and interval of peace.

Some subtle signal bids all sweet sounds cease,

Save hum of insects’ aimless industry.

Pathetic summer seeks by blazonry

Of color to conceal her swift decrease.

Weak subterfuge! Each mocking day doth fleece

A blossom, and lay bare her poverty.

Poor middle-aged summer! Vain this show!

Whole fields of Golden-Rod cannot offset

One meadow with a single violet;

And well the singing thrush and lily know,

Spite of all artifice which her regret

Can deck in splendid guise, their time to go!

“A Song of Suns and Seasons”

By George MacDonald (1824-1905)

Excerpted from At the Back of the North Wind (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 Lammastide –

Rob :)