Christy gave the sibling assignment for this week:
"The first day of autumn is September 22nd. Share a poem about the season that appeals to you and why.
Christy's link for the sibling assignment is here. Bill's assignment is posted here.
Autumn in the Garden
When the frosty kiss of Autumn in the dark
Makes its mark
On the flowers, and the misty morning grieves
Over fallen leaves;
Then my olden garden, where the golden soil
Through the toil
Of a hundred years is mellow, rich, and deep,
Whispers in its sleep.
'Mid the crumpled beds of marigold and phlox,
Where the box
Borders with its glossy green the ancient walks,
There's a voice that talks
Of the human hopes that bloomed and withered here
Year by year,--
Dreams of joy, that brightened all the labouring hours,
Fading as the flowers.
Yet the whispered story does not deepen grief;
But relief
For the loneliness of sorrow seems to flow
From the Long-Ago,
When I think of other lives that learned, like mine,
To resign,
And remember that the sadness of the fall
Comes alike to all.
What regrets, what longings for the lost were theirs!
And what prayers
For the silent strength that nerves us to endure
Things we cannot cure!
Pacing up and down the garden where they paced,
I have traced
All their well-worn paths of patience, till I find
Comfort in my mind.
Faint and far away their ancient griefs appear:
Yet how near
Is the tender voice, the careworn, kindly face,
Of the human race!
Let us walk together in the garden, dearest heart,
Not apart!
They who know the sorrows other lives have known
Never walk alone.
One of the reasons I
chose this beautiful poem by Henry Van Dyke was because of the images of the
fading autumn garden. I have never been able to spend much time in my garden in
autumn. This year will be different. I
now have the luxury of being able to take time each day and walk through my
gardens and experience the changes that are happening as summer fades into
autumn, and the garden starts to slow down, preparing for the cold and sleepy
days of winter.
The changes I see
already are the burning bush, in all her glory, flaming red to welcome
fall. The withered leaves on the tomato plants,
the squash vines, the green beans, and the cucumbers, showing harvest time is
coming to an end.
Can it be that the
colors of the flowers are even more vibrant than they have been? The roses last blooms as they share their
beauty and fragrance one last time. The
dahlias bursting forth their colors of yellow, orange and red. The sunflowers finally bursting forth,
yearning to turn their face toward the shrinking hours of sunlight.
The words in this poem
also bring me comfort. The comfort of
know that, in all the battles and struggles that we face, we are not alone. We are not facing our trials alone. There have been others who, as this poem so
beautifully explains:
Let us walk together
in the garden, dearest heart,
Not apart!
They who know the sorrows other lives have known
Never walk alone.
We are not alone in our
griefs and sorrows. This has been my
experience this past year of losing my mother.
I cannot count the number of people who shared and knew the grief of
losing a mother, and what happens, and their words and actions were so
comforting as I was dealing with my grief.
As I was reading about
Henry Van Dyke, I found out he was a good friend of Helen Keller. Here is what she had to say about Van Dyke:
"Dr. Van Dyke is the kind of a friend to
have when one is up against a difficult problem. He will take trouble, days and
nights of trouble, if it is for somebody else or for some cause he is
interested in. 'I'm not an optimist,' says Dr. Van Dyke, 'there's too much evil
in the world and in me. Nor am I a pessimist; there is too much good in the
world and in God. So I am just a meliorist, believing that He wills to make the
world better, and trying to do my bit to help and wishing that it were more.'"
As I walk the paths of my gardens this fall and ponder
the multiple griefs and sorrows of the circumstances swirling around me at this season in
my life, I will remember these words….
For the loneliness of
sorrow seems to flow
From the Long-Ago,
When I think of other lives that learned, like mine,
To resign,
And remember that the sadness of the fall
Comes alike to all.
…and
remember that I never walk alone.
