Bitter for Sweet
Summer is gone with all its roses,
Its sun and perfumes and sweet flowers,
Its warm air and refreshing showers:
And even Autumn closes.
Yea, Autumn`s chilly self is going,
And winter comes which is yet colder;
Each day the hoar frost waxes bolder
And the last buds cease blowing.
Christina Rossetti
Rainclouds gather over the Bronze Age burial mounds on the plain below Beacon Hill.
The first photograph of a setting sun in a dark grey sky, was taken today just before 3.30 pm. It has been one of the shortest days and the daylight hours have been wet, dreary and increasingly cold.
Christina Rossetti`s poem is not one of her most memorable ones, but somehow it captures that lowering of the spirits that comes on an early winter`s day of sullen skies and chill rain.
2 comments:
Nearly the shortest day now and then we can look forward to spring. Glass half full, me . . .
It is hard not to be affected by a succession of dull days that end in early darkness. I find myself ready to nod off when I sit down to read early in the evening. It feels like 10 PM and I'm always surprised to see that it may be only 7 pm.
I've puzzled over how I could have done anything while poking at my PC to help the post following feature to work. I was annoyed that your new posts weren't coming up, so I went to the side bar of my "dashboard" and clicked on your header. All of your posts immediately appeared, but for several days none of the other blogs I follow were updating. After about a week everything suddenly functioned. "Curiouser and curiouser."
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