the-caretakers-wife

[the-caretakers-wife]

October in Newport by Edith Wharton Grey rocks, that lean against this perfect sky And measureless expanse of silver sea; Slow clouds of Autumn, poising calm & high In windless depths of blue tranquility; Thwart cedar-boughs, that show How long & bitterly the storm-winds blow When Winter lays his hand upon the lea; Brown hollows, tapestried with purple plume Of late-blown asters, golden-rod's light head; And the pale mallow's evanescent bloom, No sooner loosened to the light than shed; Dark alders, close beset With scarlet beads, & roses lingering yet Though all your Summer sisterhood has fled, And, O thou sea, winged with a fleet of dreams, An argosy of longings, fairer far Than any charmèd fishing-sail that gleams At eventide against the sunset's bar, When the new moon holds sway Above the darkling spaces of the day, And the red West shakes forth a sudden star, Lo, to these eyes that loved you from their birth, No dreaming isle in waters hyaline, No happy valley of this radiant earth, No snow-wrapt peaks that tower above the pine, Lords of the lonely air, Though for a crown the very dawn they wear, With your transfiguring light shall ever shine.

[the-caretakers-wife]

All Souls I  A thin moon faints in the sky o'erhead,  And dumb in the churchyard lie the dead.  Walk we not, Sweet, by garden ways,  Where the late rose hangs and the phlox delays,  But forth of the gate and down the road,  Past the church and the yews, to their dim abode.  For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,  When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.  II  Fear not that sound like wind in the trees:  It is only their call that comes on the breeze;  Fear not the shudder that seems to pass:  It is only the tread of their feet on the grass;  Fear not the drip of the bough as you stoop:  It is only the touch of their hands that grope -  For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,  When the dead can yearn and the dead can smite.  III  And where should a man bring his sweet to woo  But here, where such hundreds were lovers too?  Where lie the dead lips that thirst to kiss,  The empty hands that their fellows miss,  Where the maid and her lover, from sere to green,  Sleep bed by bed, with the worm between?  For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,  When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.  IV  And now that they rise and walk in the cold,  Let us warm their blood and give youth to the old.  Let them see us and hear us, and say: 'Ah, thus  In the prime of the year it went with us!'  Till their lips drawn close, and so long unkist,  Forget they are mist that mingles with mist!  For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,  When the dead can burn and the dead can smite.  V  Till they say, as they hear us - poor dead, poor dead! -  'Just an hour of this, and our age-long bed -  Just a thrill of the old remembered pains  To kindle a flame in our frozen veins,  Just a touch, and a sight, and a floating apart,  As the chill of dawn strikes each phantom heart -  For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,  When the dead can hear, and the dead have sight.'  VI  And where should the living feel alive  But here in this wan white humming hive,  As the moon wastes down, and the dawn turns cold,  And one by one they creep back to the fold?  And where should a man hold his mate and say:  'One more, one more, ere we go their way'?  For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,  When the living can learn by the churchyard light.  VII  And how should we break faith who have seen  Those dead lips plight with the mist between,  And how forget, who have seen how soon  They lie thus chambered and cold to the moon?  How scorn, how hate, how strive, we too,  Who must do so soon as those others do?  For it's All Souls' night, and break of the day,  And behold, with the light the dead are away. . . . by Edith Wharton

[the-caretakers-wife]

I want to be alone and I want people to notice me — both at the same time.”

Thom Yorke (via midwintercrone)

[the-caretakers-wife]

At night I dream that you and I are two plants that grew together, roots entwined and that you know the earth and the rain like my mouth, since we are made of earth and rain.

Pablo Neruda (via midwintercrone)

[the-caretakers-wife]

I notice the worse I feel about things the greater my longing for nature and wildlife. I crave for embrace of the forest. The scent of damp moss, the feel of rough bark, and ultimately the soft calling of the wind within my home.

(via cold-fairy)

[the-caretakers-wife]

You look like a winter night, I could sleep inside the cold of you.

Catherynne Valente, Deathless (via midwintercrone)

[the-caretakers-wife]

In trees, you can hear the earth breathe.

Anonymous (via midwintercrone)

[the-caretakers-wife]

…throw roses into the abyss and say: ‘here is my thanks to the monster who didn’t succeed in swallowing me alive.’

Friedrich Nietzsche (via midwintercrone)

[the-caretakers-wife]

And at that moment a wind came out of the northwest, and entered the woods and bared the golden branches, and danced over the downs, and led a company of scarlet and golden leaves, that had dreaded this day but danced now it had come; and away with a riot of dancing and glory of colour, high in the light of the sun that had set from the sight of the fields, went wind and leaves together.

Lord Dunsany, The King of Elfland’s Daughter (via midwintercrone)

[the-caretakers-wife]

I saw old Autumn in the misty morn stand shadowless like silence, listening to silence.

Thomas Hood (via midwintercrone)

[the-caretakers-wife]

And then there are the times when the wolves are silent and the moon is howling.

George Carlin (via midwintercrone)

[the-caretakers-wife]

October is the month for painted leaves. Their rich glow now flashes ‘round the world. As fruits and leaves and the day itself acquire a bright tint just before they fall, so the year near its setting. October is its sunset sky; November the later twilight.

Henry David Thoreau (via midwintercrone)

[the-caretakers-wife]

Take long walks in stormy weather or through deep snows in the fields and woods, if you would keep your spirits up. Deal with brute nature. Be cold and hungry and weary.

 Henry David Thoreau (via midwintercrone)

[the-caretakers-wife]

The forest is the most magical and terrifying place on Earth. It is a place of great beauty and mystery. Both Life and Death resound in this place. Respect it.

Unknown (via midwintercrone)

[the-caretakers-wife]

No matter how much you feed the wolf, he keeps looking at the forest.

Ilse Lehiste (via midwintercrone)

[the-caretakers-wife]

I couldn’t live where there were no trees — something vital in me would starve.

L.M. Montgomery, Anne’s House of Dreams  (via midwintercrone)

[the-caretakers-wife]

I overcame myself, the sufferer; I carried my own ashes to the mountains; I invented a brighter flame for myself.

Friedrich Nietzsche (via midwintercrone)