Posts Tagged ‘Nature’

Autumn Leaves

November 16, 2012

Image from Tumblr

THEY MAKE US SAD, THEN MAKE US GLAD

— J.T. Reese —

How old Nature sighs and grieves,
‘Cause she’s losing all her leaves!
All her gowns of red and brown
Say “Good-bye,” then flutter down.

Soon the trees look bare and cold,
In the park or in the wold;
Pretty leaves of brown and red
Silently just bow their head.

Pretty leaves just feign to die,
And the trees just weep and sigh,
For the leaves sleep in the brake
Like they nevermore would wake.

But when days are nice and warm,
No more you feel the winter’s storm,
The trees put on their stylish dress
And you admire their loveliness.

A leaf looked down at me and said,
“You supposed we leaves were dead!
Though we wither up and dry,
Yet we never truly die.”

Cambridge City Tribune (Cambridge City, Indiana) Nov 10, 1927

Fruit

October 9, 2012

FRUIT

The wide hills are leaning
With their arms full of fruit;
The valleys lift up their trees —
Scarlet cherries,
Purple plums,
Little green pears.
Touched with russet
There are bushes
Where the berries hang
Rich and ripe,
Bursting with the sweetness
Of their juice .  .  .  .  .
It is a good time of year —
This space between the golden harvest
Of the autumn
And the first of summer —
I shall gather cherries and plums
And stain my fingers
With berries.
And my tongue shall know
The wild, sweet taste
Of many fruits  .   .   .
I shall go under a wide blue sky,
Under a golden sun,
Tasting here and there,
An epicure,
At an endless banquet.

— Abigail Cresson.

The Bee (Danville, Virginia) Aug 7, 1922

Running Away

October 8, 2012

RUNNING AWAY

The snow fell slow, unhurried —
I had to watch and see
The way the great soft flakes of it
Caught in the balsam tree —

There was the baking yet to do,
The beds weren’t made, and still
It looked so pretty and so white
Along the Quarry Hill  .  .  .

I thought I’d run away a bit
And leave my work and then
I’d rush it through as best I could
When I came home again.

The snow was soft beneath my feet,
The wind was cold and wet;
It was such fun to tramp the hill,
To be so free — and yet

The work that I had left undone
Walked with me all the way;
It talked to me and scolded me,
It would not let me play.

So, what with this and what with that,
I couldn’t take my ease;
For thinking of those unmade beds
Made me forget the trees.

So, home I went discouraged;
I thought, “What use to shirk,
If Duty goes along with me
And makes me think of work?”

ABIGAIL CRESSON.

Iowa City Press (Iowa City, Iowa) Feb 14, 1924

Peace by a Rippling Stream

February 24, 2012

Image from It’s Always Tea Time

Peace. — By a Rippling Stream

I’ve read in stories all about
The cool inviting streams;
Where one leaves all her cares and woes,
And revels in sweet dreams.

I’ve reached one, after braving thorns
And briers in paths of dust,
The perspiration drips the while
I register disgust.

I’m battling huge mosquitoes, as
They bit my legs and arms.
Who said that one could find delight,
And peace, in nature’s charm?

I think the greatest joy that’s found,
Near clear enticing brooks,
Comes when we follow those which run
Through lovely story books.

— Lyla Myers, Little Rock, Ark.

The Oshkosh Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Jan 11, 1936