http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/en-EUhttp://backend.userland.com/rss092http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/http://data5.blog.de/design/preview/d9/8354772c8c424bac586a375e80f1f2_160x200.jpg <p><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/481/4127481_fc543bacf4_m.jpeg" alt="fairies-window-L"></p> <p>Over hill, over dale,<br> Thorough bush, thorough brier,<br> Over park, over pale,<br> Thorough flood, thorough fire!<br> I do wander everywhere,<br> Swifter than the moon's sphere;<br> And I serve the Fairy Queen,<br> To dew her orbs upon the green;<br> The cowslips tall her pensioners be;<br> In their gold coats spots you see;<br> Those be rubies, fairy favours;<br> In those freckles live their savours;<br> I must go seek some dewdrops here,<br> And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.</p> <p>Shakespeare</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/11/20/a-fairy-song-7421687/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/11/20/a-fairy-song-7421687/Fri, 20 Nov 2009 18:39:04 +0100 <p><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/867/4124867_2fc8173ebb_m.jpeg" alt="hacker31"></p> <p>Somewhere i have never traveled, gladly beyond<br> any experience, your eyes have their silence:<br> in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,<br> or which i cannot touch because they are too near</p> <p>your slightest look easily will unclose me<br> though i have closed myself as fingers,<br> you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens<br> (touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose</p> <p>or if your wish be to close me, i and<br> my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,<br> as when the heart of this flower imagines<br> the snow carefully everywhere descending;</p> <p>nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals<br> the power of your intense fragility: whose texture<br> compels me with the colour of its countries,<br> rendering death and forever with each breathing</p> <p>(i do not know what it is about you that closes<br> and opens; only something in me understands<br> the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)<br> nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands</p> <p>e.e.cummings </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/11/19/somewhere-i-have-never-travelled-7416776/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/11/19/somewhere-i-have-never-travelled-7416776/Thu, 19 Nov 2009 23:09:30 +0100 <p>Throughout the afternoon I watched them there,<br> Snow-fairies falling, falling from the sky,<br> Whirling fantastic in the misty air,<br> Contending fierce for space supremacy.<br> And they flew down a mightier force at night,<br> As though in heaven there was revolt and riot,<br> And they, frail things had taken panic flight<br> Down to the calm earth seeking peace and quiet.<br> I went to bed and rose at early dawn<br> To see them huddled together in a heap,<br> Each merged into the other upon the lawn,<br> Worn out by the sharp struggle, fast asleep.<br> The sun shone brightly on them half the day,<br> By night they stealthily had stol'n away.</p> <p>Claude McKay</p> <p>And suddenly my thoughts then turned to you<br> Who came to me upon a winter's night,<br> When snow-sprites round my attic window flew,<br> Your hair disheveled, eyes aglow with light.<br> My heart was like the weather when you came,<br> The wanton winds were blowing loud and long;<br> But you, with joy and passion all aflame,<br> You danced and sang a lilting summer song.<br> I made room for you in my little bed,<br> Took covers from the closet fresh and warm,<br> A downful pillow for your scented head,<br> And lay down with you resting in my arm.<br> You went with Dawn. You left me ere the day,<br> The lonely actor of a dreamy play. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/11/13/the-snow-fairy-7367594/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/11/13/the-snow-fairy-7367594/Fri, 13 Nov 2009 17:14:26 +0100 <p><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/866/4102866_52db4ef7bc_m.jpeg" alt="woodland-on-coldharbour-road-211095"></p> <p>Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,<br> And sorry I could not travel both<br> And be one traveler, long I stood<br> And looked down one as far as I could<br> To where it bent in the undergrowth.</p> <p>Then took the other, as just as fair,<br> And having perhaps the better claim,<br> Because it was grassy and wanted wear;<br> Though as for that the passing there<br> Had worn them really about the same.</p> <p>And both that morning equally lay<br> In leaves no step had trodden black.<br> Oh, I kept the first for another day!<br> Yet knowing how way leads on to way,<br> I doubted if I should ever come back.</p> <p>I shall be telling this with a sigh<br> Somewhere ages and ages hence:<br> Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--<br> I took the one less traveled by,<br> And that has made all the difference.</p> <p>Robert Frost </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/11/12/the-road-not-taken-7360552/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/11/12/the-road-not-taken-7360552/Thu, 12 Nov 2009 21:11:18 +0100 <p><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/285/4097285_e3ceb179d8_m.jpeg" alt="819.152"></p> <p>"In Flanders fields the poppies blow<br> Between the crosses, row on row,<br> That mark our place; and in the sky<br> The larks, still bravely singing, fly<br> Scarce heard amid the guns below</p> <p>We are the dead. Short days ago<br> We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,<br> Loved, and were loved, and now we lie<br> In Flanders fields."<br> Colonel John McRae, In Flanders Fields<br> November 11th - Veteran's Day in America, Armistice Day, 1918, Remembered</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/11/10/in-flanders-fields-7347049/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/11/10/in-flanders-fields-7347049/Tue, 10 Nov 2009 20:55:52 +0100 <p><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/680/4049680_6f5501a494_m.jpeg" alt="silence"></p> <p>Silence, unmoved and rising,<br> Silence, unmoved and sheltering,<br> Silence, unmoved and permanent,<br> Silence, unmoved and brilliant,<br> Silence, broad and immense like the Ganga,<br> Silence, unmoved and increasing,<br> Silence, white and shining like the Moon,<br> Silence, the Essence of Siva.</p> <p>- Sivavakkiyar </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/28/silence-7258058/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/28/silence-7258058/Wed, 28 Oct 2009 03:47:17 +0100 <p><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/046/4037046_a01c04ec1e_m.jpeg" alt="1459041447_b4a5b96c0a_o"></p> <p>Dark hills against a hollow crocus sky<br> Scarfed with its crimson pennons, and below<br> The dome of sunset long, hushed valleys lie<br> Cradling the twilight, where the lone winds blow<br> And wake among the harps of leafless trees<br> Fantastic runes and mournful melodies.</p> <p>The chilly purple air is threaded through<br> With silver from the rising moon afar,<br> And from a gulf of clear, unfathomed blue<br> In the southwest glimmers a great gold star<br> Above the darkening druid glens of fir<br> Where beckoning boughs and elfin voices stir.</p> <p>And so I wander through the shadows still,<br> And look and listen with a rapt delight,<br> Pausing again and yet again at will<br> To drink the elusive beauty of the night,<br> Until my soul is filled, as some deep cup,<br> That with divine enchantment is brimmed up. </p> <p>Lucy Maud Montgomery </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/24/an-autumn-evening-7236432/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/24/an-autumn-evening-7236432/Sat, 24 Oct 2009 18:16:44 +0200 <p>"How innocent were these Trees, that in<br> Mist-green May, blown by a prospering breeze,<br> Stood garlanded and gay;<br> Who now in sundown glow<br> Of serious color clad confront me with their show<br> As though resigned and sad,<br> Trees, who unwhispering stand umber, bronze, gold;<br> Pavilioning the land for one grown tired and old;<br> Elm, chestnut, aspen and pine, I am merged in you,<br> Who tell once more in tones of time,<br> Your foliaged farewell."<br> - Siegfried Sassoon, October Trees</p> <p><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/836/4027836_b3abd218a1_m.jpeg" alt="425259674_c9d367c532"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/22/october-trees-7225405/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/22/october-trees-7225405/Thu, 22 Oct 2009 21:12:00 +0200 <p>"Between the heavens and the earth<br> The way now opens to bring forth<br> The Hosts of those who went on before;<br> Hail! We see them now come through the Open Door.</p> <p>Now the veils of worlds are thin;<br> To move out you must move in.<br> Let the Balefires now be made,<br> Mine the spark within them laid.</p> <p>Move beyond the fiery screen,<br> Between the seen and the unseen;<br> Shed your anger and your fear,<br> Live anew in a new year!"<br> - Lore of the Door </p> <p><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/205/4031205_8bd48a24de_m.jpeg" alt="autumn"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/22/the-open-door-7225390/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/22/the-open-door-7225390/Thu, 22 Oct 2009 21:09:45 +0200 <p><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/303/4025303_d6df0a99db_m.jpeg" alt="autumn_road"></p> <p>"The gilding of the Indian summer mellowed the pastures far and wide.<br> The russet woods stood ripe to be stripped, but were yet full of leaf.<br> The purple of heath-bloom, faded but not withered, tinged the hills...<br> Fieldhead gardens bore the seal of gentle decay; ... its time of<br> flowers and even of fruit was over."<br> - Charlotte Brontë </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/21/indian-summer-7212637/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/21/indian-summer-7212637/Wed, 21 Oct 2009 04:50:01 +0200 <p>Anger is a great obstacle. The after-effect of anger is frustration and depression. We should take anger as a thief. Its very nature is to steal. We have love inside us and it is our treasure. If we allow anger, the thief, to enter into us, then it will immediately steal our inner treasure. When this happens we must immediately call the police. That is to say, when anger assails us we must cry inwardly for deep aspiration to come to the fore and chase away our anger. If we love someone, we cannot get angry; but for the time being we have lost our love. In order to regain our love, we have to call our aspiration-police to save our most precious love-treasure. </p> <p>Again, when anger comes to us we have to feel that it is something that is breaking us. We have come into the world to build. If we build something, then only will the world appreciate and admire us. So we have to see which qualities build our nature. Love and peace build our real life; anger only destroys.</p> <p>Sri Chinmoy </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/18/anger-7197237/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/18/anger-7197237/Sun, 18 Oct 2009 23:40:08 +0200 <p><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/876/4017876_7138c810c1_m.jpeg" alt="tree1"></p> <p>I was angry with my friend:<br> I told my wrath, my wrath did end.<br> I was angry with my foe:<br> I told it not, my wrath did grow.</p> <p>And I watered it in fears<br> Night and morning with my tears,<br> And I sunned it with smiles<br> And with soft deceitful wiles.</p> <p>And it grew both day and night,<br> Till it bore an apple bright,<br> And my foe beheld it shine,<br> And he knew that it was mine, -</p> <p>And into my garden stole<br> When the night had veiled the pole;<br> In the morning, glad, I see<br> My foe outstretched beneath the tree.</p> <p>William Blake </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/18/a-poison-tree-7197231/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/18/a-poison-tree-7197231/Sun, 18 Oct 2009 23:39:02 +0200 <p><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/350/4007350_471b5807d3_m.jpeg" alt="2818978784_1ae4f284eb"></p> <p>"A child looking at ruins grows younger<br> but cold<br> and wants to wake to a new name<br> I have been younger in October<br> than in all the months of spring<br> walnut and may leaves the color<br> of shoulders at the end of summer<br> a month that has been to the mountain<br> and become light there<br> the long grass lies pointing uphill<br> even in death for a reason<br> that none of us knows<br> and the wren laughs in the early shade now<br> come again shining glance in your good time<br> naked air late morning<br> my love is for lightness<br> of touch foot feather<br> the day is yet one more yellow leaf<br> and without turning I kiss the light<br> by an old well on the last of the month<br> gathering wild rose hips<br> in the sun."</p> <p>W.S. Merwin </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/16/the-love-of-october-7178306/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/16/the-love-of-october-7178306/Fri, 16 Oct 2009 00:36:01 +0200 <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/09/lovesong-from-the-mountains-7128808/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/09/lovesong-from-the-mountains-7128808/Fri, 09 Oct 2009 05:53:35 +0200 <p><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/882/3979882_0fdcea49b2_m.jpeg" alt="candles"></p> <p>Samhain marks one of the two great doorways of the Celtic year, for the Celts divided the year into two seasons: the light and the dark, at Beltane on May 1st and Samhain on November 1st. Some believe that Samhain was the more important festival, marking the beginning of a whole new cycle, just as the Celtic day began at night. For it was understood that in dark silence comes whisperings of new beginnings, the stirring of the seed below the ground. Whereas Beltane welcomes in the summer with joyous celebrations at dawn, the most magically potent time of this festival is November Eve, the night of October 31st, known today of course, as Halloween. </p> <p>Samhain (Scots Gaelic: Samhuinn) literally means ?summer's end.? In Scotland and Ireland, Halloween is known as Oíche Shamhna, while in Wales it is Nos Calan Gaeaf, the eve of the winter's calend, or first. With the rise of Christianity, Samhain was changed to Hallowmas, or All Saints' Day, to commemorate the souls of the blessed dead who had been canonized that year, so the night before became popularly known as Halloween, All Hallows Eve, or Hollantide. November 2nd became All Souls Day, when prayers were to be offered to the souls of all who the departed and those who were waiting in Purgatory for entry into Heaven. Throughout the centuries, pagan and Christian beliefs intertwine in a gallimaufry of celebrations from Oct 31st through November 5th, all of which appear both to challenge the ascendancy of the dark and to revel in its mystery.</p> <p>In the country year, Samhain marked the first day of winter, when the herders led the cattle and sheep down from their summer hillside pastures to the shelter of stable and byre. The hay that would feed them during the winter must be stored in sturdy thatched ricks, tied down securely against storms. Those destined for the table were slaughtered, after being ritually devoted to the gods in pagan times. All the harvest must be gathered in -- barley, oats, wheat, turnips, and apples -- for come November, the faeries would blast every growing plant with their breath, blighting any nuts and berries remaining on the hedgerows. Peat and wood for winter fires were stacked high by the hearth. It was a joyous time of family reunion, when all members of the household worked together baking, salting meat, and making preserves for the winter feasts to come. The endless horizons of summer gave way to a warm, dim and often smoky room; the symphony of summer sounds was replaced by a counterpoint of voices, young and old, human and animal. </p> <p>In early Ireland, people gathered at the ritual centers of the tribes, for Samhain was the principal calendar feast of the year. The greatest assembly was the 'Feast of Tara,' focusing on the royal seat of the High King as the heart of the sacred land, the point of conception for the new year. In every household throughout the country, hearth-fires were extinguished. All waited for the Druids to light the new fire of the year -- not at Tara, but at Tlachtga, a hill twelve miles to the north-west. It marked the burial-place of Tlachtga, daughter of the great druid Mogh Ruith, who may once have been a goddess in her own right in a former age. </p> <p>At at all the turning points of the Celtic year, the gods drew near to Earth at Samhain, so many sacrifices and gifts were offered up in thanksgiving for the harvest. Personal prayers in the form of objects symbolizing the wishes of supplicants or ailments to be healed were cast into the fire, and at the end of the ceremonies, brands were lit from the great fire of Tara to re-kindle all the home fires of the tribe, as at Beltane. As they received the flame that marked this time of beginnings, people surely felt a sense of the kindling of new dreams, projects and hopes for the year to come. </p> <p>The Samhain fires continued to blaze down the centuries. In the 1860s the Halloween bonfires were still so popular in Scotland that one traveler reported seeing thirty fires lighting up the hillsides all on one night, each surrounded by rings of dancing figures, a practice which continued up to the first World War. Young people and servants lit brands from the fire and ran around the fields and hedges of house and farm, while community leaders surrounded parish boundaries with a magic circle of light. Afterwards, ashes from the fires were sprinkled over the fields to protect them during the winter months -- and of course, they also improved the soil. The bonfire provided an island of light within the oncoming tide of winter darkness, keeping away cold, discomfort, and evil spirits long before electricity illumined our nights. When the last flame sank down, it was time to run as fast as you could for home, raising the cry, ?The black sow without a tail take the hindmost!?</p> <p>Even today, bonfires light up the skies in many parts of the British Isles and Ireland at this season, although in many areas of Britain their significance has been co-opted by Guy Fawkes Day, which falls on November 5th, and commemorates an unsuccessful attempt to blow up the English Houses of Parliament in the 17th century. In one Devonshire village, the extraordinary sight of both men and women running through the streets with blazing tar barrels on their backs can still be seen! Whatever the reason, there will probably always be a human need to make fires against the winter?s dark.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/08/the-fires-of-samhain-samhain-marks-one-of-the-two-7122691/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/08/the-fires-of-samhain-samhain-marks-one-of-the-two-7122691/Thu, 08 Oct 2009 07:53:48 +0200 <p> Divination at Halloween </p> <p>Samhain was a significant time for divination, perhaps even more so than May or Midsummer’s Eve, because this was the chief of the three Spirit Nights. Divination customs and games frequently featured apples and nuts from the recent harvest, and candles played an important part in adding atmosphere to the mysteries. In Scotland, a child born at Samhain was said to be gifted with an dà shealladh, “The Two Sights” commonly known as “second sight,” or clairvoyance. </p> <p>Apple Magic<br> At the heart of the Celtic Otherworld grows an apple tree whose fruit has magical properties. Old sagas tell of heroes crossing the western sea to find this wondrous country, known in Ireland as Emhain Abhlach, (Evan Avlach) and in Britain, Avalon. At Samhain, the apple harvest is in, and old hearthside games, such as apple-bobbing, called apple-dookin’ in Scotland, reflect the journey across water to obtain the magic apple. </p> <p>Dookin' for Apples<br> Place a large tub, preferably wooden, on the floor, and half fill it with water. Tumble in plenty of apples, and have one person stir them around vigorously with a long wooden spoon or rod of hazel, ash or any other sacred tree. </p> <p>Each player takes their turn kneeling on the floor, trying to capture the apples with their teeth as they go bobbing around. Each gets three tries before the next person has a go. Best to wear old clothes for this one, and have a roaring fire nearby so you can dry off while eating your prize!<br> If you do manage to capture an apple, you might want to keep it for a divination ritual, such as this one: </p> <p>The Apple and the Mirror<br> Before the stroke of midnight, sit in front of a mirror in a room lit only by one candle or the moon. Go into the silence, and ask a question. Cut the apple into nine pieces. With your back to the mirror, eat eight of the pieces, then throw the ninth over your left shoulder. Turn your head to look over the same shoulder, and you will see and in image or symbol in the mirror that will tell you your answer.</p> <p>(When you look in the mirror, let your focus go "soft," and allow the patterns made by the moon or candlelight and shadows to suggest forms, symbols and other dreamlike images that speak to your intuition.) </p> <p>Dreaming Stones<br> Go to a boundary stream and with closed eyes, take from the water three stones between middle finger and thumb, saying these words as each is gathered: </p> <p> I will lift the stone<br> As Mary lifted it for her Son,<br> For substance, virtue, and strength;<br> May this stone be in my hand<br> Till I reach my journey’s end. </p> <p>(Scots Gaelic)<br> Togaidh mise chlach,<br> Mar a thog Moire da Mac,<br> Air bhrìgh, air bhuaidh, ‘s air neart;<br> Gun robh a chlachsa am dhòrn,<br> Gus an ruig mi mo cheann uidhe.</p> <p>Carry them home carefully and place them under your pillow. That night, ask for a dream that will give you guidance or a solution to a problem, and the stones will bring it for you.</p> <p><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/874/3979874_63d8f69a82_m.jpeg" alt="TotalRedApple"></p> <p><a href="http://www.chalicecentre.net/samhain.htm">http://www.chalicecentre.net/samhain.htm</a> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/08/divination-on-halloween-7122687/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/08/divination-on-halloween-7122687/Thu, 08 Oct 2009 07:53:19 +0200 <p><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/480/3975480_dd13859927_m.jpeg" alt="Misty Autumn Morning"></p> <p>"I saw old Autumn in the misty morn<br> Stand, shadowless like Silence, listening<br> To Silence."<br> - Thomas Hood </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/06/old-autumn-7114039/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/10/06/old-autumn-7114039/Tue, 06 Oct 2009 23:27:41 +0200 <p><img src="http://data6.blog.de/media/101/3939101_3368c2e39d_m.jpeg" alt="autumn-9486"></p> <p>"Colors burst in wild explosions<br> Fiery, flaming shades of fall<br> All in accord with my pounding heart<br> Behold the autumn-weaver<br> In bronze and yellow dying<br> Colors unfold into dreams<br> In hordes of a thousand and one<br> The bleeding<br> Unwearing their masks to the last notes of summer<br> Their flutes and horns in nightly swarming<br> Colors burst within<br> Spare me those unending fires<br> Bestowed upon the flaming shades of fall."</p> <p>Dark Tranquility, With the Flaming Shades of Fall </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/26/with-the-flaming-shades-of-fall-7045710/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/26/with-the-flaming-shades-of-fall-7045710/Sat, 26 Sep 2009 21:11:20 +0200 <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/19/autumn-6998485/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/19/autumn-6998485/Sat, 19 Sep 2009 21:28:48 +0200 <p><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/132/3911132_4e7367519b_m.jpeg" alt="collier2"></p> <p>The autumn wind's a pirate,<br> Blustering in from sea;<br> With a rollicking song, he sweeps along,<br> Swaggering boist'rously.</p> <p>His skin is weather-beaten;<br> He wears a yellow sash,<br> With a handkerchief red about his head.<br> And a bristling black mustache.</p> <p>He laughs as he storms the country,<br> A loud laugh and a bold;<br> And the trees all quake and shiver and shake,<br> As he robs them of their gold.</p> <p>The autumn wind's a pirate,<br> Pillaging just for fun;<br> He'll snatch your hat as quick as that,<br> And laugh to see you run!</p> <p>Mary Jane Carr </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/19/the-autumn-wind-s-a-pirate-blustering-in-from-sea-6993766/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/19/the-autumn-wind-s-a-pirate-blustering-in-from-sea-6993766/Sat, 19 Sep 2009 06:22:12 +0200 <p>The earth grows fragrant in the evening shadows –<br> So sweet the flowers' breath is and so light,<br> And from the dreamland of a bygone springtime<br> You come again to visit me tonight.</p> <p>An anxious thought once more disturbs my spirit,<br> A blissful joy is glowing in my eyes.<br> Words fade away, only a distant echo<br> Repeats your name, the name my heart still cries.</p> <p>With my whole being I can sense your presence,<br> To earth you bring the fragrance of a dream,<br> You are a lambent light whose rays of wonder<br> Tonight into my sombre bosom stream.</p> <p>Though far away you are, at this great distance<br> You are as ever my longed-for delight<br> Emerging like a fairy queen of dreamland<br> Amid the fragrant shadows of the night.</p> <p>Vincas Mykolaitis-Putinas</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/11/the-earth-grows-fragrant-in-the-evening-shadows-so-sweet-6945442/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/11/the-earth-grows-fragrant-in-the-evening-shadows-so-sweet-6945442/Fri, 11 Sep 2009 23:27:28 +0200 <p><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/186/3885186_2bee1f2509_m.jpeg" alt="anderson6"></p> <p>In the woods of September surely the forest-soul may be surprised, will be the thought of many. In that month the sweet incessant business of bird and beast lessens or is at an end. The woodpecker may still tap at the holes of gnarled oaks and chestnuts; the squirrel is more than ever mischievously gay; on frosty mornings, when the gossamer webs are woven across every bramble, and from frond to frond of the bronze-stained bracken, the redbreast tries and retries the poignant new song he has somehow learned since first he flaunted his bright canticles of March and April from the meadow-hedge or the sunned greenness of the beech-covert. But there is a general silence, a present suspense, while the lime yellows, and the birch takes on her pale gold, and oak and sycamore and ash slowly transmute their green multitudes into a new throng clad in russet or dull red or sunset-orange. The forest is full of loveliness: in her dusky ways faint azure mists gather.</p> <p><a href="http://www.sundown.pair.com/SundownShores/Volume_VI/ForestMurmers/forest.htm">http://www.sundown.pair.com/SundownShores/Volume_VI/ForestMurmers/forest.htm</a> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/11/the-woods-of-september-6944551/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/11/the-woods-of-september-6944551/Fri, 11 Sep 2009 20:25:31 +0200 <p><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/961/3884961_1253f41fd0_m.jpeg" alt="palmer5"></p> <p>Dark hills against a hollow crocus sky<br> Scarfed with its crimson pennons, and below<br> The dome of sunset long, hushed valleys lie<br> Cradling the twilight, where the lone winds blow<br> And wake among the harps of leafless trees<br> Fantastic runes and mournful melodies.</p> <p>The chilly purple air is threaded through<br> With silver from the rising moon afar,<br> And from a gulf of clear, unfathomed blue<br> In the southwest glimmers a great gold star<br> Above the darkening druid glens of fir<br> Where beckoning boughs and elfin voices stir.</p> <p>And so I wander through the shadows still,<br> And look and listen with a rapt delight,<br> Pausing again and yet again at will<br> To drink the elusive beauty of the night,<br> Until my soul is filled, as some deep cup,<br> That with divine enchantment is brimmed up. </p> <p>Lucy Maud Montgomery </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/11/an-autumn-evening-6944030/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/11/an-autumn-evening-6944030/Fri, 11 Sep 2009 18:51:41 +0200 <p><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/805/3882805_ce5827bbcb_m.jpeg" alt="hughes_e4"></p> <p>Twas noontide of summer,<br> And mid-time of night;<br> And stars, in their orbits,<br> Shone pale, thro' the light<br> Of the brighter, cold moon,<br> 'Mid planets her slaves,<br> Herself in the Heavens,<br> Her beam on the waves.<br> I gazed awhile<br> On her cold smile;<br> Too cold- too cold for me-<br> There pass'd, as a shroud,<br> A fleecy cloud,<br> And I turned away to thee,<br> Proud Evening Star,<br> In thy glory afar,<br> And dearer thy beam shall be;<br> For joy to my heart<br> Is the proud part<br> Thou bearest in Heaven at night,<br> And more I admire<br> Thy distant fire,<br> Than that colder, lowly light.</p> <p>Edgar Allan Poe </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/10/evening-star-6939117/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/10/evening-star-6939117/Thu, 10 Sep 2009 22:32:58 +0200 <p><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/613/3879613_d94d2554e0_m.jpeg" alt="chabas1"></p> <p>"The birds laugh loud and long together<br> When Fashion's followers speed away<br> At the first cool breath of autumn weather.<br> Why, this is the time, cry the birds, to stay!<br> When the deep calm sea and the deep sky over<br> Both look their passion through sun-kissed space,<br> As a blue-eyed maid and her blue-eyed lover<br> Might each gaze into the other's face."<br> - Ella Wheeler Wilcox, The End of Summer </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/09/september-6933322/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/09/september-6933322/Wed, 09 Sep 2009 21:51:15 +0200 <p><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/127/3875127_cd0c5bee4f_m.jpeg" alt="243"></p> <p>"Smoke hangs like haze over harvested fields,<br> The gold of stubble, the brown of turned earth<br> And you walk under the red light of fall<br> The scent of fallen apples, the dust of threshed grain<br> The sharp, gentle chill of fall.<br> Here as we move into the shadows of autumn<br> The night that brings the morning of spring<br> Come to us, Lord of Harvest<br> Teach us to be thankful for the gifts you bring us ..."</p> <p>Source Unknown<br> Autumn Equinox Ritual </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/08/witch-blogging-6924312/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/08/witch-blogging-6924312/Tue, 08 Sep 2009 18:29:44 +0200 <p><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/566/3872566_588ffc777c_m.jpeg" alt="rosebud"></p> <p>We are a liars, because<br> the truth of yesterday becomes a lie tomorrow,<br> whereas letters are fixed,<br> and we live by the letter of truth.<br> The love I feel for my friend, this year,<br> is different from the love I felt last year.<br> If it were not so, it would be a lie.<br> Yet we reiterate love! love! love!<br> as if it were a coin with a fixed value<br> instead of a flower that dies, and opens a different bud.</p> <p>D H Lawrence </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/08/lies-about-love-6917094/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/08/lies-about-love-6917094/Tue, 08 Sep 2009 02:23:02 +0200 <p>“Run your fingers through my soul. For once, just once, feel exactly what I feel, believe what I believe, perceive as I perceive, look, experience, examine, and for once; just once, understand.”</p> <p>Unknown Source</p> <p><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/888/3862888_6151b4239a_m.jpeg" alt="Autumn_Road"> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/05/soul-6900173/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/05/soul-6900173/Sat, 05 Sep 2009 22:11:56 +0200 <p><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/781/3862781_496023a17c_m.jpeg" alt="fitzgerald3"></p> <p>A million dreams I wished upon a million stars.<br> But stars have only night-time life,<br> And so my dreams are banished once the sun appears.<br> Night, be forever.<br> Oh moon, don’t ever go away,<br> Embrace me with your timeless rays<br> And help me make time change it’s ways.</p> <p>Oh day, have pity on my dreams,<br> Do not obey the sword that with it’s morning cut,<br> your sister kills.</p> <p>What need is there for moon or sun?<br> If you are here, there is no light<br> That could ever be sweeter to my sight.</p> <p>So come and let my shadow lean on yours,<br> that I may hear the song our hearts thus make...</p> <p>Or give me light to keep my dreams awake</p> <p> Madalina Partoaca </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/05/a-million-dreams-6899904/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/05/a-million-dreams-6899904/Sat, 05 Sep 2009 21:32:33 +0200 <p><img src="http://data5.blog.de/media/297/3852297_ef1cda7274_m.jpeg" alt="The-Farmer$27s-Daughter" style="margin:5px;" /></p> <p>Departing summer hath assumed<br> An aspect tenderly illumed,<br> The gentlest look of spring;<br> That calls from yonder leafy shade<br> Unfaded, yet prepared to fade,<br> A timely carolling.<br> - William Wordsworth, September </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/03/departing-summer-6879808/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://janeagain.blog.co.uk/2009/09/03/departing-summer-6879808/Thu, 03 Sep 2009 00:53:30 +0200