Hello everyone –
November has arrived, with autumn splendor, cool breezes, starlit frosty nights, and holidays to remember and celebrate! Here are some of my favorite poems about late autumn (and yes, early winter – it’s definitely on the way!).
“November
Morning”
By
Evaleen Stein (1863-1923)
A
tingling, misty marvel
Blew hither in the night,
And now the little peach-trees
Are clasped in frozen light.
Upon
the apple-branches
An icy film is caught,
With trailing threads of gossamer
In pearly patterns wrought.
The
autumn sun, in wonder,
Is gaily peering through
This silver-tissued network
Across the frosty blue.
The
weather-vane is fire-tipped,
The honeysuckle shows
A dazzling icy splendor,
And crystal is the rose.
Around
the eaves are fringes
Of icicles that seem
To mock the summer rainbows
With many-colored gleam.
Along
the walk, the pebbles
Are each a precious stone;
The grass is tasseled hoarfrost,
The clover jewel-sown.
Such
sparkle, sparkle, sparkle
Fills all the frosty air,
Oh, can it be that darkness
Is ever anywhere!
“Get
Up and Bar the Door”
(Anonymous
– Traditional Scottish Ballad)
Editor’s
Note:
Martinmas is November 11th, the feast of St. Martin of Tours.
It
fell about the Martinmas time,
And
a gay time it was then,
When
our goodwife got puddings to make,
And
she’s boiled them in the pan.
The
wind sae could blew south and north,
And
blew into the floor;
Quoth
our goodman to our goodwife,
“Gae
out and bar the door.”
“My
hand is in my hussyfskap,
Goodman,
as ye may see;
An
it should nae be barred this hundred year,
It’s
no be barred for me.”
They
made a paction tween them two,
They
made it firm and sure,
That
the first word whatever should speak,
Should
rise and bar the door.
Then
by there came two gentlemen,
At
twelve o clock at night,
And
they could neither see house nor hall,
Nor
coal nor candle-light.
“Now
whether is this a rich man’s house,
Or
whether is it a poor?”
But
never a word wad any of them speak,
For
barring of the door.
And
first they ate the white puddings,
And
then they ate the black;
Tho
muckle thought the goodwife to herself,
Yet
never a word she spake.
Then
said the one unto the other,
“Here,
man, take ye my knife;
Do
ye take off the auld man’s beard,
And
I ’ll kiss the goodwife.”
“But
there’s nae water in the house,
And
what shall we do then?”
What
ails thee at the pudding-broo,
That
boils into the pan?”
O
up then started our goodman,
An
angry man was he:
“Will
ye kiss my wife before my een,
And
scald me wi pudding-bree?”
Then
up and started our goodwife,
Gied
three skips on the floor:
“Goodman,
you’ve spoken the foremost word,
Get
up and bar the door.”
“Simple
Gifts” (1848)
By
Shaker Elder Joseph Brackett, Jr. (1797-1882)
1.
'Tis the gift to be simple,
'tis
the gift to be free,
'tis
the gift to come down where you ought to be,
And
when we find ourselves in the place just right,
It
will be in the valley of love and delight.
Refrain:
When
true simplicity is gained,
To
bow and to bend we shan't be ashamed.
To
turn, turn will be our delight,
'Til
by turning, turning we come round right.
2.
'Tis the gift to be loved and that love to return,
'Tis
the gift to be taught and a richer gift to learn,
And
when we expect of others what we try to live each day,
Then
we'll all live together and we'll all learn to say,
Refrain
3.
'Tis the gift to have friends and a true friend to be,
'Tis
the gift to think of others not to only think of "me,"
And
when we hear what others really think and really feel,
Then
we'll all live together with a love that is real.
Refrain
BTW,
this week marks the 28th anniversary of Quotemail! Yes, I’ve
actually been running this list for half of my lifetime! 😊 You can read archives of past editions of Quotemail – dating
back to 2014 – on my blog @ https://rhcfortnightlyquotemail.blogspot.com.
Be sure to check out my “Winged Words Windsday” feature, which is added around
the middle of each week!
Until
next time –
Rob
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