Beautiful poem MOnica. I too love November evenings and the dusk.
Not as many leaves to rake up as you but we certainly have our fair share here
I've got another 'keen'... Ouch!
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SubscribeBeautiful poem MOnica. I too love November evenings and the dusk.
Not as many leaves to rake up as you but we certainly have our fair share here
MOnica much more optimistic
I love November, it is leaf raking month! Unfortunately because of the lockdown it has all to be done on the first 4 days, my front garden yields 8 or more huge cubic metre builders bags of leaves every year and they have to go to the tip because I just do not have space to compost them down.
Anyway I was outside this morning and filled the first sack, ready to go to the tip after lunch. The weather is overcast but it is not raining and I rake and bag with the wind.
I came indoors with rosy cheeks feeling quite exhilerated with my work and looking forward to repeating the exercise everyday for the next three days. There are more leaves to come, but most are down so come 1 December, or whenever the tips reopen I will be there again with big bags of leaves.
I prefer the sentiments of Lucy Montgomery's poem November Evening. I give only the first two and last two verses.
Come, for the dusk is our own; let us fare forth together,
With a quiet delight in our hearts for the ripe, still, autumn weather,
Through the rustling valley and wood and over the crisping meadow,
Under a high-sprung sky, winnowed of mist and shadow.
Sharp is the frosty air, and through the far hill-gaps showing
Lucent sunset lakes of crocus and green are glowing;
'Tis the hour to walk at will in a wayward, unfettered roaming,
Caring for naught save the charm, elusive and swift, of the gloaming.
....................................................
Beautiful is the year, but not as the springtime maiden garlanded with her hopes, rather the woman laden
With wealth of joy and grief, worthily won through living,
Wearing her sorrow now like a garment of praise and thanksgiving.
Gently the dark comes down over the wild, fair places,
The whispering glens in the hills, the open, starry spaces;
Rich with the gifts of the night, sated with questing and dreaming,
We turn to the dearest of paths where the star of the homelight is gleaming.
Let's try hard not to get too pessimistic about life at present. (Difficult, I know). Things are bad but things will change. We have to have hope.
Pessimism breeds pessimism, hope breeds hope.
However, the Postman will still call, loaded down with Christmas Presents bought online, home is warm and snug and if we get the frost they forecast this week, there will be a moon.
On the 1st of December my Christmas Decs are going up.
Oh! And the sun has just come out.
Another Maw poem for my commonplace book. So clever and appropriate. I am still smiling about her Twelve Days of Christmas poem and this is a worthy companion. Thank you, Maw.
Excellent poem put into words how we all feel!
Iam64
Maw - genius adaptation.
My approach to November (especially November with a Conservative government ) is --- always winter and never Christmas. (thanks to CS Lewis)
Oh I like that!
Very true Maw but “it too shall pass” as they say...?
No worries. If only ?
Maw - genius adaptation.
My approach to November (especially November with a Conservative government ) is --- always winter and never Christmas. (thanks to CS Lewis)
Well done Maw, very appropriate for today!
Maw, how clever you are. A very appropriate and realistic adaptation of our circumstances at the moment. Well done!
Not meant to be pessimistic, Ginny - written with a wry smile ( me anyway, I don’t know about Thomas Hood. I have my knitting! )
Oh Maw, what a pessimistic poem. I’m going to find something to smile bout every day. I hope you can too.
No sun - no moon!
No morn - no noon -
No dawn - no dusk - no proper time of day -
No sky - no earthly view -
No distance looking blue -
No road - no street - no 't'other side the way' -
No end to any Row -
No indications where the Crescents go -
No top to any steeple -
No recognitions of familiar people -
No courtesies for showing 'em -
No knowing 'em -
No travelling at all - no locomotion,
No inkling of the way - no notion -
'No go' - by land or ocean -
No mail - no post -
No news from any foreign coast -
No Park - no Ring - no afternoon gentility -
No company - no nobility -
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member -
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds, -
November!
Thomas Hood might have been being pessimistic (or resigned);when he wrote “November” but it’s closer to home than we might ever have guessed when with a very few changes he might have written...
(So with apologies to the poet)
No sun, no moon
No VE Day parties like we had in June
No church, although you see the steeple
No socialising with familiar people -
No hope of meeting them -
No unmasked greeting them
No travelling by train - no bus, no locomotion,
But why go out, you’ll have no notion
When everything is shut, all entertainment stopping
No point in going out no shopping-
(Except by Amazon )
No mail - no post -
No news from any foreign coast -
No pubs, no lunch , no afternoon gentility -
No company - no nobility -
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
Just Zoom and FaceTime with your families
So stuck indoors, good times you will remember
But that is all we can expect - this November
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