Top Five Friday: The Poems of Autumn

Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.

 ~ Leonardo da Vinci

In October, I am writing about all things autumnal: from art to spooky books, author interviews, recipes, and autumn-inspired writing prompts AND participating in the Two Pages-a-Day writing challenge.

Y

esterday, the rain was romantic.  Today it’s just wet.

And so is my mood.

I was writing a post about the rules for writing a murder mystery and realized that it was going to be long post.  Which goes against one of the rules for writing a readable blog post.  But breaking up a top five post seems uneven to me, so I’m saving it for another day.

To try and get back that romantic rainy feeling, I decided to read poetry.  Here are five that felt like they had a tinge of autumn about them ~ even though they aren’t literally about the season.

To read the entire poem and about the poet, click on the poem title.

Frost To-Night

Edith Thompson

Apple-green west and an orange bar,
And the crystal eye of a lone, one star . . .
And, "Child, take the shears and cut what you will,
Frost to-night -- so clear and dead-still."

Then, I sally forth, half sad, half proud,
And I come to the velvet, imperial crowd,
The wine-red, the gold, the crimson, the pied, --
The dahlias that reign by the garden-side.

The dahlias I might not touch till to-night!
A gleam of the shears in the fading light,
And I gathered them all, -- the splendid throng,
And in one great sheaf I bore them along.

I Have Lived with Shades

Thomas Hardy

I have lived with shades so long,

And talked to them so oft,

Since forth from cot and croft

I went mankind among,

   That sometimes they

   In their dim style

   Will pause awhile

   To hear my say;

Hush!

Julia Ripley Dorr

Oh, hush thee, Earth! Fold thou thy weary palms!

The sunset glory fadeth in the west;

The purple splendor leaves the mountain's crest;

Gray twilight comes as one who beareth alms,

Darkness and silence and delicious calms.

Like Barley Bending

Sara Teasdale

Like barley bending

In low fields by the sea,

Singing in hard wind

Ceaselessly;

Nature is What We See

Emily Dickinson

"Nature" is what we see—

The Hill—the Afternoon—

Squirrel—Eclipse— the Bumble bee—

Nay—Nature is Heaven—

Nature is what we hear—

Oremus pro invicem,

~ Mikaela