【英语时差8,16】秋之诗

The poetry of Autumn

 

    Emily Bronte wrote a short poem about this time of year.

 

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;

 

Link the night and shor the day;

 

Every leaf speaks bliss to me

 

Fluttering from the autumn tree.

 

I shall smile when wreaths of snow

 

Blossom where the rose should grow;

 

I shall sing when night’s decay

 

Ushers⁴ in a drearier day.

 

    Although I admire Emily’s optimism, somehow I don’t think she could have been a gardener. Gardeners, I think, while welcoming the changing seasons are always looking ahead to next year’s roses. That is why, I believe that the author of another poem about autumn sounds as if he may have been a gardener. Politzer wrote:

 

Whirling leaves, golden and brown

 

Twisting and turning

 

Hurrying down

 

Driving wind, gusty and strong

 

Whistling and sighing

 

Rushing along

 

Scudding⁵ clouds, grey leaden sky

 

Laughing and playing

 

Galloping⁶ by.

 

Roaming birds, gathered for flight

 

Chirping⁷ and preening⁸

 

Seeking sun light.

 

Drooping⁹ rose, scattered¹⁰ to earth,

 

Dying and fading

 

Waiting new birth.

 

As we walk around our gardens hoping to find that last rose of summer, we are already dreaming of roses yet to come.