September has come, it is hers
Whose vitality leaps in the autumn,
Whose nature prefers
Trees without leaves and a fire in the fire-place;
So I give her this month and the next
Though the whole of my year should be hers who has
So many of its days intolerable or perplexed
But so many more so happy;
Who has left a scent on my life and left my walls
Dancing over and over with her shadow,
Whose hair is twined in all my waterfalls
And all of London littered with remembered kisses.
So I am glad
That life contains her with her moods and moments
More shifting and more transient than I had
Yet thought of as being integral to beauty;
Whose mind is like the wind on a sea of wheat,
Whose eyes are candour,
And assurance in her feet
Like a homing pigeon never by doubt diverted.
I have to thank my friends Phil and Sarah for this week’s Monday Verse. He is the photographer, she is the one standing in the wheat field, and the photograph was taken in the Yorkshire Wolds.
These lines are one of my favourite passages of poetry, and I was desperate to share them, but didn’t have an image that did them justice. Then I saw this picture that Phil had posted on Instagram, and it was just perfect, especially as I suspect that Sarah is indeed an autumn person.
So, thank you Phil for kindly giving me permission to use your beautiful photograph, and I hope that you enjoy the poem.