Christina Rossetti ~ October

Crack your first nut and light your first fire;
Roast your first chestnut crisp on the bar;
Make the logs sparkle, stir the blaze higher,
Logs are cheery as sun or as star,
Logs we can find wherever we are.

Spring one soft day will open the leaves,
Spring one bright day will lure back the flowers;
Never fancy my whistling wind grieves,
Never fancy I've tears in my showers;
Dance, nights and days! And dance on, my hours!

Christina Rossetti,
from The Months: A Pageant.

Painting: Autumn Leaves
Sir John Everett Millais - 1855-1856
Dorothy Parker ~ Midnight
The stars are soft as flowers, and as near; 
The hills are webs of shadow, slowly spun; 
No separate leaf or single blade is here- 
All blend to one.
No moonbeam cuts the air; a sapphire light 
Rolls lazily. and slips again to rest. 
There is no edged thing in all this night, 
Save in my breast.
Dorothy Parker

Summer Night

Stanislav Zhukovsky - 1912
Anna Akhmatova
You will hear thunder and remember me,
And think: she wanted storms. The rim
Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson,
And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire.”
― Anna Akhmatova, The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova
Alfred Tennyson ~ Memories
“Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depths of some devine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy autumn fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.”
― Alfred Tennyson

John White Alexander - circa 1903
Jorge Luis Borges ~ Mirrors
“Mirrors in metal, and the masked
Mirror of mahogany that in its mist
Of a red twilight hazes
The face that is gazed on as it gazes”
― Jorge Luis Borges

The Little Round Mirror
Edward Steichen - 1901
Hope And Memory
“Hope and Memory have one daughter and her name is Art, and she has built her dwelling far from the desperate field where men hang out their garments upon forked boughs to be banners of battle. O beloved daughter of Hope and Memory, be with me for a while.”
― W.B. Yeats
Hope and memory
Kenyon Cox - 1900
Tolkien ~ Remembering Past Seasons
I sit beside the fire and think
Of all that I have seen
Of meadow flowers and butterflies
In summers that have been
Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair
I sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever see
For still there are so many things
That I have never seen
In every wood in every spring
There is a different green
I sit beside the fire and think
Of people long ago
And people that will see a world
That I shall never know
But all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before
I listen for returning feet
And voices at the door”
― J.R.R. Tolkien

Vasilevskoë - Autumn
Wassily Kandinsky - 1903
E.e. Cummings ~ You Are…
“Yours is the light by which my spirit's born: - you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.”
― E.E. Cummings

Christian Rohlfs,
Dancing around the Ball of the Sun, 1916
Rainer Maria Rilke ~ Evening
Slowly the evening puts on the garments
held for it by a rim of ancient trees;
you watch: and the lands divide from you,
one going heavenward, one that falls;
and leave you, to neither quite belonging,
not quite so dark as the house sunk in silence,
not quite so surely pledging the eternal
as that which grows star each night and climbs-
and leave you (inexpressibly to untangle)
your life afraid and huge and ripening,
so that it, now bound in and now embracing,
grows alternately stone in you and star.
~ Rainer Maria Rilke ~
Claude Monet - 1840-1926 - The sunken road in the cliff at Varangeville - 1882
Anna Akhmatova ~ In The Evening
The garden rang with music
Of inexpressible despair.
A dish of oysters spread on ice
Smelled like the ocean, fresh and sharp.
He told me: "I'm a faithful friend!"-
And lightly touched my dress.
How different from embraces
The touch of those two hands.
That's how one strokes a cat or bird
Or looks at slender lady riders...
Just laughter in his quiet eyes,
Beneath his light gold lashes.
And the despondent voices of the violins
Sing out beyond the hanging smoke:
"Give blessings to heaven above
At last you're alone with your beloved."
March 1913