Summer ends now; now, barbarous in beauty, the stooks rise
Around; up above, what wind-walks! what lovely behaviour
Of silk-sack clouds! has wilder, wilful-wavier
Meal-drift moulded ever and melted across skies?I walk, I lift up, I lift up heart, eyes,
Down all that glory in the heavens to glean our Saviour;
And, yes, heart, what looks, what lips yet gave you a
Rapturous love’s greeting of realer, of rounder replies?And the azurous hung hills are his world-wielding shoulder
Majestic–as a stallion stalwart, very-violet-sweet!–
These things, these things were here and but the beholder
Wanting; which two when they once meet,
The heart rears wings bold and bolder
And hurls for him, O half hurls earth for him off under his feet.
Around; up above, what wind-walks! what lovely behaviour
Of silk-sack clouds! has wilder, wilful-wavier
Meal-drift moulded ever and melted across skies?I walk, I lift up, I lift up heart, eyes,
Down all that glory in the heavens to glean our Saviour;
And, yes, heart, what looks, what lips yet gave you a
Rapturous love’s greeting of realer, of rounder replies?And the azurous hung hills are his world-wielding shoulder
Majestic–as a stallion stalwart, very-violet-sweet!–
These things, these things were here and but the beholder
Wanting; which two when they once meet,
The heart rears wings bold and bolder
And hurls for him, O half hurls earth for him off under his feet.
– Hurrahing in Harvest, Gerard Manley Hopkins
Autumn means less light, it means the discomfort of colder temperatures, it means rising before the sun is up, it means that everything that grows falls apart again, it means that we will die.
And yet – last weekend I sat under a blanket with my beloved and thought maybe, just maybe I can learn to like this season of decay and change. Maybe the people in my life who sweep in after the leisurely isolation of summer make it worth it to endure the cold. Maybe a season of change means that I can change too, that I can keep my eyes fixed on God’s world-wielding shoulder and let that be more for me than the grief I feel.
These things were here and but the beholder wanting.
Beautiful photo and poem. You are right in your description of Autumn, though I’ve never heard anyone describe it quite like that! I understand what you mean about the people who waltz in after the isolation of summer. Very poetic post – even the non-poetic parts! 🙂
Thank you so much, that’s very kind. I hope you have a lovely (autumnal) day!
Love that poem and this whole post. 🙂
Down under, we’re heading into Spring. Each turning of the seasons is something to behold, is it not? Amazing photo btw
Some of my happiest memories took place in autumn. A season can reflect our joys consolingly or haunt us with the loss, quite on top of how the season itself may seem to speak of its own qualities to this person or that who moves through it. It’s good that you’ve found warmth amidst what you’ve taken to be a time more typical of decay and change. Would that what now forms the memory will continue to be present to comfort you as both memory and continuing present reality in future autumns.
I miss Back East autumn. I love the smell of autumn. Here (Los Angeles), the days get shorter before the weather gets cooler. There is a blissful short time between when summer ends and the winds start and everything catches on fire. Tradeja? Especially tradeja if it means getting Eastern Division games and being closer to Fenway. But just for autumn, you can keep winter. 😉