Listen. . .
With faint dry sound,
Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp'd, break from the trees
And fall.
by Adelaide Crapsey (1878 – 1914)
Adelaide Crapsey
Among the bumble-bees in red-top hay, a freckled field of brown-eyed Susans dripping yellow leaves in July,
I read your heart in a book.
And your mouth of blue pansy—I know somewhere I have seen it rain-shattered.
And I have seen a woman with her head flung between her naked knees, and her head held there listening to the sea, the great naked sea shouldering a load of salt.
And the blue pansy mouth sang to the sea:
Mother of God, I’m so little a thing,
Let me sing longer,
Only a little longer.
And the sea shouldered its salt in long gray combers hauling new shapes on the beach sand.
by Carl Sandburg (1878 - 1967)
If I could knit those words into a shawl, I would wear it always.
ReplyDeletexoxo,
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Such a beautiful thing to say.
DeleteBoth of these poems are perfect for the day. I have never heard of this lady. I will have to look her up. Have a great weekend.
ReplyDeleteI hadn't either, and then to find that S. wrote a poem about her. Very touching.
Delete"I read your heart in a book." The romance in those words is absolutely beautiful!
ReplyDeleteShe died very young of TB.
Delete"...new shapes on the beach sand..."
ReplyDeleteI live in central New Jersey. This seems so appropriate fo this week...
*sigh*
Wow, of course.
DeleteI love the November Night poem! I've always wondered why fall seems to make us think of ghosts - perhaps it's because of all the rustling and falling of the leaves? It's still my favourite time of year.
ReplyDeleteThe poem sure captures it.
DeleteBoth, lovely poems that encapsulate the feel of the leaves that we are surrounded by here. Lovely.
ReplyDeleteYou are so kind to offer up a calendar, Nan. It looks like a good one, but, I'll pass. I already have one for next year and it is already marked up with engagements.
I feared that would be so, which is why I decided to start the giveaway now instead of the 22nd. Mine has stuff in it, too. :<)
DeleteLove Carl Sandburg. His home and a museum dedicated to him is not far from where we live here in North Carolina.
ReplyDeleteHave you visited?
DeleteI had not heard of Adelaide but would love to know more after reading Mr. Sandburg's poem. After I read your post I went and pulled out My Connemara again to begin reading it for about the 10th time. It was written by his granddaughter who lived with her grandparents there with her mother and brother for many years of her childhood. I love the book for the personal life it reveals about the grand old man. My cousin lives in Flat Rock and her children and her have walked those grounds. I know it must be a wonderful place.
ReplyDeleteI just found it so touching, so sad. You may have noticed they were born in the same year. I will look into the granddaughter's book. I had never heard of it. Thanks so much.
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