Autumn leaves ~

Autumn Leaves 

Jones Very (1813 ~ 1880)

The leaves though thick are falling; one by one

Decayed they drop from off their parent tree;

Their work with autumn's latest day is done,

Thou see'st them borne upon its breezes free;

They lie strown here and there , their many dyes

That yesterday so caught thy passing eye;

Soiled by the rain each leaf neglected lies,

Upon the path where now thou hurriest by;

Yet think thee not their beauteous tints less fair,

Than when they hung so gaily o'er thy head;

But rather find thee eyes, and look thee there

Where now thy feet so heedless o'er them tread;

And thou shalt see where wasting now they lie,

The unseen hues of immortality. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Mr. Sun ~

Garden art 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Summer Sun

Robert Louis Stevenson

1850-1894

GREAT is the sun, and wide he goes

Through empty heaven without repose;

And in the blue and glowing days

More thick than rain he showers his rays.

Though closer still the blinds we pull

To keep the shady parlour cool,

Yet he will find a chink or two

To slip his golden fingers through.

The dusty attic, spider-clad,

He, through the keyhole, maketh glad;

And through the broken edge of tiles

Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.

Meantime his golden face around

He bares to all the garden ground,

And sheds a warm and glittering look

Among the ivy's inmost nook.

Above the hills, along the blue,

Round the bright air with footing true,

To please the child, to paint the rose,

The gardener of the World, he goes.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Louis Untermeyer, ed (1885-1997). Modern British Poetry. 1920