IN THE COUNTRY...

MNEMOSYNE by Trumbull Stickney ( 1874-1904) He was an American poet and scholar, graduating with honours from Harvard in 1895. Published Dramatic Verses in 1902 and died too young,in 1904.

"Mnemosyne" means "remembrance" and memory ( originally the name of the Greek goddess who was mother of the Muses in mythology. Mnemosyne (memory) was always important in Greek storytelling)

It's autumn in the country I remember

How warm a wind blew here about the ways! And shadows on the hillside lay to slumber

During the long sun-sweetened summer-days

It's cold abroad the country I remember.

The swallows veering skimmed the golden grain at midday with a wing aslant and limber:

And yellow cattle browsed upon the plain...

It's empty down the country I remember

I had a sister lovely in my sight: her hair was dark, her eyes were very sombre;

We sang together in the woods at night.

It's lonely in the country I remember.

The babble of our children fills my ears, and on our hearth I stare at the perished ember to flames that show all starry thru my tears.

It's dark about the country I remember

There are the mountains where I lived. The path is slushed with cattle-tracks and fallen timber;

The stumps are twisted by the tempests' wrath.

But that I knew these places are my own, I'd ask how came such wretchedness to cumber the earth, and I to people it alone.

It rains across the country I remember...

Photographs 2026 Mnemosyne is in the public domain. All works published before Jan 1 1931 come under this designation. This poem was written in 1902.
 

BLOOD MOON RISING...

"There are nights when the wolves are silent, and only the moon howls..." -George Carlin

"The moon is always jealous of the heat of the day....." -Alice Hoffman
 
                                             

"Don't tell me the moon is shining. Show me the glint of light on broken glass..."

                                                                                                              - Anton Chekhov

                                   "Stay wild, Moon child..." -Ritta Klint

"See a flame in a spark. See great things in little beginnings..." -Richard Sibbes

"God put the moon in the sky to remind us that our darkest moments lead to our brightest..." -Lynne Ewing

"Tell me the story about how the sun loved the moon so much he died every night to let her breathe..." -Hanako Ishii

                                          
"The moon was so beautiful that the ocean held up a mirror..."

                                                                    -Ani DiFranco 

             "Go slowly, my lovely moon, go slowly ..." -Khaled Hosseni           

"You're my flame in the dark. We chase away the shadows around each other..." -Richelle Mead

"Drag me to the moon, to catch a star an seize its brilliance, as I'm swept up in amorphous dust..." -Bradley Chicho

         "We ran as if to meet the moon..." -Robert Frost

"Don't tell me the sky is the limit, when there are footprints on the moon..." -Paul Brandt

"The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon..." -Jean Ingelow

Photographs 2025 Campbell River, B.C.

 

SMOKING HOT....

AUGUST( 1915) by Lizette Woodworth Reese ( 1856-1935) Poet  Laureate 1931. Wrote "A Handful of Lavender 1891" and   "A Wayside Lute 1909"                   

                                                
No wind. No bird.

The river flames like brass.

On either side, smitten as with a spell

Of silence, brood the fields.

In the deep grass, edging the dusty roads, lie as they fell

Handfuls of shriveled leaves from tree and bush.

But along the orchard fence and at the gate,

Thrusting their saffron torches through the hush,

Wild lilies blaze, and bees hum soon and late.

Rust coloured the tall straggling briar,

Not one Rose left.

The spider sets its loom up there

Close to the roots, and spins out in the sun

A silken web from twig to twig.

The air is full of hot rank scents.

Upon the hill drifts the moon's single cloud, white, glaring, still...

"There may be great fire in our soul, yet no one ever comes to warm itself at it, and the passers-by see only a wisp of smoke...." -Vincent van Gogh

Photographs 2025 Smoky weather and skies over Mt. Washington range, Campbell River, B.C.