Fall

Song to Pomona

A silver dew lies on the Autumn grasses,
Autumnal sunshine habits every tree;
From each bejewelled bough there slowly passes
Immeasured scent and sweetness up to thee,
Pomorum Patrona! Pomorum Patrona!
O hear, as thou wert wont to hear of old,
Though guardian goddess of red and gold.

Banners, above thine orchard temples flying.
Flame a new splendour from each glowing glade,
And radiant hills of clustered light are lying
Beneath the lichened pillars on the shade,
Pomorun Patrona! Pomorum Patrona!
O give, as thou wert wont to give of old,
Though guardian goddess of red and gold.

With ample stores abundantly she blesses
Each nesting hamlet of the hills and plains,
Shaking within their thirsty cider-presses
The glory garnered from her woodland fanes.
Pomorun Patrona! Pomorum Patrona!
We praise thy name with voices of young and old,
Though guardian goddess of red and gold.

~ Arthur Rackham

Earth Teach Me To Remember

Earth teach me stillness
as the grasses are stilled with light.
Earth teach me suffering
as old stones suffer with memory.
Earth teach me humility
as blossoms are humble with beginning.
Earth Teach me caring
as the mother who secures her young.
Earth teach me courage
as the tree which stands alone.
Earth teach me limitation
as the ant which crawls on the ground.
Earth teach me freedom
as the eagle which soars in the sky.
Earth teach me resignation
as the leaves which die in the fall.
Earth teach me regeneration
as the seed which rises in the spring.
Earth teach me to forget myself
as melted snow forgets its life.
Earth teach me to remember kindness
as dry fields weep in the rain.

by John Yellow Lark

Blessings of the Season

Blessings of my first frost on you
Blessings of the goose-stitched sky
Blessings of the trees in sunset glory
And warm hearths at the end of the day.
Blessings of the harvest set before you
Blessings of the food that comfort brings
Blessings on the fire that stays within you
Blessings on the fire that cannot stay.

Found at: Magickal Winds

Autumn

Autumn

Autumn is over the long leaves that love us,
And over the mice in the barley sheaves;
Yellow the leaves of the rowan above us,
And yellow the wet wild-strawberry leaves.
The hour of the waning of love has beset us;
And weary and worn are our sad souls now;
Let us part, ere the season of passion forget us,
With a kiss and a tear and dropping brow.

– W.B. Yeats

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I think it's time to go shopping... maybe even buy some really cool stuff at my online shops!!

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