Saturday, September 23, 2017


Summer is over, the leaves up here in New England are starting to change color. Here in Little Rhody it will be a while before the color really sets in. If it does, it's not an every year kind of thing. Depends on the temperature, the amount of rain we had, and probably a bunch of other factors as well. I just try to enjoy it when it's here.

I enjoy Fall, the light has a different quality, almost a rosy hue. While the days here are still warm, the nights are beginning to be crisp.

The past couple of days we've been seeing a lot of wind and some rain as what used to be Hurricane Jose peters out over the Atlantic. "He" pretty much left us alone, other than the higher than normal winds and some rain, not really heavy, sort of a persistent drizzle. But that storm's presence out there might keep the next storm, Maria, away from us.

It's Friday evening as I write this, wet, gloomy, blustery winds, and rather chilly.

I thought a bit of Yeats was needed. And to think I didn't care for poetry in my youth. I guess you get more refined with age.
The Wild Swans at Coole
William Butler Yeats

'The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty swans.

The nineteenth autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamorous wings.

I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All's changed since I, hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
Trod with a lighter tread.

Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold
Companionable streams or climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still.

But now they drift on the still water,
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake's edge or pool
Delight men's eyes when I awake some day
To find they have flown away?


  1. Great photo of that church. I do envy the colors New England enjoys. Here it's either green or brown.

    One thing that always gets me about the churches like that - think of the poor schmucks that built the last 10 feet or so of that steeple. Dangerous job.

    1. I do like that photo. As to the last ten feet of the steeple? Yeah, if not in an aircraft, that's too high for my tastes.

  2. Strange question, perhaps, but does anyone know where the Coole comes from in the title of the poem?

    1. Coole Park, in Ireland, appears to be the place.

    2. It's a place in Ireland, according to Wikipedia -

      It (the poem) was written during a period when Yeats was staying with his friend Lady Gregory at her home at Coole Park...

      Coole Park is a nature reserve of approximately 1,000 acres located a few miles west of Gort, County Galway, Ireland. It is operated by the Irish National Parks & Wildlife Service, part of the Department of Arts, Heritage and the Gaeltacht. The park is in a low–lying karstic limestone area characterised by seasonal lakes, known as turloughs, which are almost unique to Ireland. It has extensive woodlands. There are 6 kilometres of signposted nature trails plus a formal late 18th century walled garden.

      Why do you ask, Michelle Morgan-Coole?


  3. Yeah kind of obvious, right? Some people think my husband's last name came from an error in a birth certificate where Cole was changed to Coole. It is an unusual last name. I always thought his family was from England, but my niece made a comment recently about Ireland, so ... basically I'm quite confused about my identity. ��

    1. Not that obvious, my great-grandfather (from Canada) changed his last name from French to English, Gaudry to Goodrich. Lived in Vermont, enlisted in a New York regiment for the Civil War. Took us a while to untangle all that! (And most of the distaff side is from Scotland!)

  4. I like fall as I can put away the wide brim floppy hat and wear something smaller.

  5. It got up to 93 in Baraboo Saturday! Too warm for mid Septober!

  6. I too love poetry when read or delivered by someone else. It is difficult for me to read. We have a retired priest that comes 3rd Sunday of the month who almost every sermon uses poetry. I've often told him I need him to read for me. His delivery is excellent.

    1. I had to read through it a couple of times until I had the rhythm of it.

      It was worth the effort.

      Ask the priest to read Yeats for you!


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