Autumn

As I traveled from New York this week, I noticed the changing of leaves.  It’s coming upon my favorite time of the year, and who better describes it than Emily Dickinson; in her own words.

Have a great week!

Autumn

The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry's cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I'll put a trinket on.

A Something in a Summer’s Day

Here’s one of my favorite poems written by Emily Dickinson that represents the waning days of summer.  I hope you enjoy this poem as much as I do.

Everyone have a good weekend!

A SOMETHING in a summer’s day,

As slow her flambeaux burn away,

Which solumnizes me.

A something in a summer’s noon,--

An azure depth, a wordless tune,

Transcending ecstasy,

And still within a summer’s night

A something so transporting bright,

I clap my hands to see;

Then veil my too inspecting face,

Lest such a subtle, shimmering grace

Flutter too far forme.

The wizard-fingers never rest,

The purple brook within the breast

Still chafes its narrow bed;

Still rears the East her amber flag,

Guides still the sun along the crag

His caravan of red,

Like flowers that heard the tale of dews,

But never deemed the dripping prize

Awaited their low brows;

Or bees, that thought the summer’s name

Some rumor of delirium

No summer could for them;

Or Artic creature, dimly stirred

By tropic hint, --some travelled bird

Imported to the wood;

Or wind’s bright signal to the ear,

Making that homely and severe,

Contented, known, before

The heaven unexpected came,

To lives that thought their worshipping

A too presumptuous psalm.

A Book

I thought I share this little poem written by Emily Dickinson entitled A Book.  I thank all of your support as I go into these last few of college.  It really bolsters my morale!

Have a great weekend, everyone!

A Book

There is no Frigate like a Book

To take us Lands await

Nor any Coursers like a Page

Of prancing Poetry—

This Traverse may the poorest take

Without oppress of Toll—

How frugal is the Chariot

That bears the Human Soul—

T'is So Much Joy

This poem by (guess who?) Emily Dickinson caught my eye today and I decided to post it   Sometimes, we all need to take heed of the joy in life because we never know when it will be cut short.  Well, today is my day to be reminded of that…and who better to do this than my all-time favorite poet!  Hope you enjoy and have a great weekend!

’T is so much joy! ’T is so much joy!
If I should fail, what poverty!
And yet, as poor as I
Have ventured all upon a throw;
Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so
This side the victory!

Life is but life, and death but death!
Bliss is but bliss, and breath but breath!
And if, indeed, I fail,
At least to know the worst is sweet.
Defeat means nothing but defeat,
No drearier can prevail!

And if I gain,—oh, gun at sea,
Oh, bells that in the steeples be,
At first repeat it slow!
For heaven is a different thing
Conjectured, and waked sudden in,
And might o’erwhelm me so!

Monet’s Garden

Today, I came upon an article I thought fit nicely with the post I wrote about Emily Dickinson’s garden a few weeks ago.  As we try to calm ourselves in our fast-paced world, it is nice to know nature is always there, waiting for us as a refuge.  I have always loved Claude Monet’s artwork and found a certain peace, as I look at his various works.  I hope this article speaks to you as it did me!

Have a good weekend, and if you feel so compelled, comment!

http://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/homestyle/what-we-can-learn-from-monets-garden-20130721-2qces.html

Emily’s Garden

As you all know, the enigma of Emily Dickinson always fascinated me, even as a young child.  Like her poetry, her love of her garden is certainly a well-known aspect of her life.  During these hot, summer days; I always wonder about the poetic musings she had while she worked in her garden; planting and pruning over a hundred years ago.  She certainly experienced the hot, blazing sun at her back while she tended lovingly to her plants.  Today, as I re-read some of her poetry, I marveled at how she captured nature’s beauty and described it on paper.  I feel honored to see the same sun’s brightness as she and to witness God’s great beauty every ephemeral summer day that passes.  It is comforting in a way to know some things change, while others stay the same; that we can always see and feel God’s unending love in His magnificent creations, knowing our journey does not end, only changes in its form.

Emily Dickinson Video

Hi All,

I just found a really cool Emily Dickinson video and wanted to share with you.  I hope you all had a good week and have a truly wonderful weekend!

A Touch of Emily…Again

I hope you all had a good week.  It’s becoming my favorite part of the year: Autumn.  Seeing leaves flutter to the ground or smelling smoke during a walk are great comforts to me.  Today, I stumbled upon a poem by, guess who?  Emily Dickinson.  I felt compelled to share and hope you enjoy.  Wishing all a good weekend!

Besides the Autumn poets sing

Besides the Autumn poets sing
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the Haze—

A few incisive Mornings—
A few Ascetic Eves—
Gone—Mr. Bryant's "Golden Rod"—
And Mr. Thomson's "sheaves."

Still, is the bustle in the Brook—
Sealed are the spicy valves—
Mesmeric fingers softly touch
The Eyes of many Elves—

Perhaps a squirrel may remain—
My sentiments to share—
Grant me, Oh Lord, a sunny mind—
Thy windy will to bear!

The Ghost of Amherst

Today, I decided to post another poem.  Although The Ghost of Amherst appeared in the summer \ fall edition of UCP’s Life Without Limits, I like the poem so much that I decided to post it.  For those who have already read it, I apologize.  As I said before, I feel affinity towards Emily Dickinson because her mind was a whirl with thoughts and words: such as mine.  The old poem reminds me if we are not careful, we all create mental prisons for ourselves; ones in which we cannot break free.  Without further ado, here’s the Ghost of Amherst.

The Ghost of Amherst

The ghost of Amherst she will always be—

Who walks the shores and swims the seas.

There is a ghost of Amherst, you know.

When all is dark and only moonlight glows—

She prowls her haunts and wishes she could be free,

But a slave to destiny she always will be—

For the universe ignores her plea.

The ghost of Amherst she will always be—

Who walks the shores and swims the seas.

She wrings her hands in despair,

Knowing death is always there—

An invisible prison that

Deprives her of the life she once knew.

The ghost of Amherst she will always be—

Who walks the shores and swims the seas.

Her white dress flows and casts a shadow

across the land she once loved—only a

Faint memory to her now.

She pledges a solemn vow to break her unending

Chain of unhappiness.

The ghost of Amherst she will always be—

Who walks the shores and swims the seas.

She visits the grave she knows so well,

where she reads her own name

And grieves eternally.

The ghost of Amherst she will always be—

Who walks the shores and swims the seas.