Beguile us in the way you know

October-Morning-In-Corwin-Ohio_art

 

 

Here’s an October poem by Robert Frost:

 

“O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
Tomorrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away.”
–   Robert Frost, October

 

 

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What I love is near at hand

stones in water

Here’s a poem by Theodore Roethke:

“I have come to a still, but not a deep center,
A point outside the glittering current;
My eyes stare at the bottom of a river,
At the irregular stones, iridescent sandgrains,
My mind moves in more than one place,
In a country half-land, half-water.
I am renewed by death, thought of my death,
The dry scent of a dying garden in September,
The wind fanning the ash of a low fire.
What I love is near at hand,
Always, in earth and air.”
–  Theodore Roethke, The Far Field    

 

In Autumn at the fall of a leaf

MSM autumn tree

 

Here’s a lovely Autumn poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti:

Autumn Song   by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

 

Know’st thou not at the fall of the leaf

How the heart feels a languid grief

Laid on it for a covering,

And how sleep seems a goodly thing

In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?

 

And how the swift beat of the brain

Falters because it is in vain,

In Autumn at the fall of the leaf

Knowest thou not? and how the chief

Of joys seems—not to suffer pain?

 

Know’st thou not at the fall of the leaf

How the soul feels like a dried sheaf

Bound up at length for harvesting,

And how death seems a comely thing

In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?

 

 

The Beautiful Changes

praying-mantis

 

Read that title so that “changes” is the verb!

Here is a great poem by one of my favorite poets, Richard Wilbur:

 

Richard Wilbur     The Beautiful Changes

 

One wading a Fall meadow finds on all sides

The Queen Anne’s Lace lying like lilies

On water; it glides

So from the walker, it turns

Dry grass to a lake, as the slightest shade of you

Valleys my mind in fabulous blue Lucernes.

 

The beautiful changes as a forest is changed

By a chameleon’s tuning his skin to it;

As a mantis, arranged

On a green leaf, grows

Into it, makes the leaf leafier, and proves

Any greenness is deeper than anyone knows.

 

Your hands hold roses always in a way that says

They are not only yours; the beautiful changes

In such kind ways,

Wishing ever to sunder

Things and things’ selves for a second finding, to lose

For a moment all that it touches back to wonder.

 

queen-annes-lace-1

Good Bones

Bali Face in wall

 

Here is a heart-rending poem by the American poet Maggie Smith:

 

Good Bones   by Maggie Smith

 

Life is short, though I keep this from my children.

Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine

in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,

a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways

I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least

fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative

estimate, though I keep this from my children.

For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.

For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,

sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world

is at least half terrible, and for every kind

stranger, there is one who would break you,

though I keep this from my children. I am trying

to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,

walking you through a real shithole, chirps on

about good bones: This place could be beautiful,

right? You could make this place beautiful.

 

Light and Shade

autumn-leaves-farm-house-art-by-steven-kozar-1470111089

 

 

Here’s a lovely poem by Tom Clark:

“Light and Shade.”

 

Like musical instruments

Abandoned in a field

The parts of your feelings

 

Are starting to know a quiet

The pure conversion of your

Life into art seems destined

 

Never to occur

You don’t mind

You feel spiritual and alert

 

As the air must feel

Turning into sky aloft and blue

You feel like

 

You’ll never feel like touching anything or anyone

Again

And then you do.

 

 

The Summer Was Immense

autumn woman in gold leaves

Here’s a wonderful Autumn poem by Rilke:

 

Lord: it is time. The summer was immense.
Lay your shadow on the sundials
and let loose the wind in the fields.

Bid the last fruits to be full;
give them another two more southerly days,
press them to ripeness, and chase
the last sweetness into the heavy wine.

Whoever has no house now will not build one
anymore.
Whoever is alone now will remain so for a long
time,
will stay up, read, write long letters,
and wander the avenues, up and down,
restlessly, while the leaves are blowing.