...is a promise of the resurrection.

Category: Poetry

Come, Little Leaves

DSC01054It’s a glorious Autumn day here where the Appalachians meet the Smokies.  My mom is a lover and writer of poetry, and each year on a particularly gorgeous Autumn day she calls (by request) to recite one of her favorites:  Come, Little Leaves by George Cooper.  It is a beloved family tradition that she started in my childhood, and it just wouldn’t be Autumn without it!

“Come, little leaves,”
Said the wind one day,
“Come over the meadows
With me, and play;
Put on your dresses
Of red and gold;
Summer is gone,
And the days grow cold.”

Soon as the leaves
Heard the wind’s loud call,
Down they came fluttering,
One and all;
Over the meadows
They danced and flew,
Singing the soft
Little songs they knew.

Dancing and flying
The little leaves went;
Winter had called them
And they were content-
Soon fast asleep
In their earthy beds,
The snow laid a soft mantle
Over their heads.

DSC01049Don’t miss the glories of this season!  Take every opportunity to be outside smelling the fallen leaves (no other smell like it) and basking in the colors.   If you live in an area where the leaves change, take a tip from Charlotte Mason who encouraged us to “Never be within doors when you can rightly be without.”  (Volume I, page 42.)  Take a walk, sit on the porch, dine alfresco, or pitch a tent in the yard for the last outdoor slumber of the year.  You will be refreshed!



To Ponder: Too Beautiful

DSC01048                GOD’S WORLD 

     by Edna St. Vincent Millay

O World, I cannot hold thee close enough!

     Thy winds, thy wide gray skies!

Thy mists that roll and rise!

     Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag

And all but cry with colour!  That gaunt crag

     To crush!  To lift the lean of that black bluff!

DSC01052World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!

     Long have I known a glory in it all,

But never knew I this:

     Here such a passion is

As stretcheth me apart.  Lord, I do fear

     Thou’st made the world too beautiful this year,

DSC01059My soul is all but out of me, let fall

     No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.

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