As Fly-fishermen abandon the rivers and return to city responsibilities, Nature prepares herself for the long winter. It is a time of good byes, when sail boats vanish and beaches empty. The geese certify the autumn with their formations as they head south.
It is this time of year I am filled with the melancholy feeling of a natural chapter of life coming to an end....fall, winter... Nature's big challenge...
" The Tables Turned "
Up! Up! my friend, and quit your books,
Or surely you'll grow double; Up! Up! my friend and clear your looks;
Why all this toil and trouble?
The sun, above the mountain's head,
A freshening luster mellow Through all the long green fields has spread,
His first sweet evening yellow.
Books! ' tis a dull and endless strife Come hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it.
And hark! how blithe the throstle sings ! He, too, is no mean preacher; Come forth into the light of things, Let Nature be your teacher.
She has a world of ready wealth, Our minds and hearts to bless... Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health, Truth breathed by cheerfulness.
One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can.
Sweet is the lore which Nature brings; Our meddling intellect
Mis-shapes the beauteous form of things... We murder to dissect.
Enough of science and of art; Close up those barren leaves; Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watches and receives.
Wm. Wordsworth ( 1770-1850 ) Naturalist and Romantic Period Poet
It is this time of year I am filled with the melancholy feeling of a natural chapter of life coming to an end....fall, winter... Nature's big challenge...
" The Tables Turned "
Up! Up! my friend, and quit your books,
Or surely you'll grow double; Up! Up! my friend and clear your looks;
Why all this toil and trouble?
The sun, above the mountain's head,
A freshening luster mellow Through all the long green fields has spread,
His first sweet evening yellow.
Books! ' tis a dull and endless strife Come hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it.
And hark! how blithe the throstle sings ! He, too, is no mean preacher; Come forth into the light of things, Let Nature be your teacher.
She has a world of ready wealth, Our minds and hearts to bless... Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health, Truth breathed by cheerfulness.
One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can.
Sweet is the lore which Nature brings; Our meddling intellect
Mis-shapes the beauteous form of things... We murder to dissect.
Enough of science and of art; Close up those barren leaves; Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watches and receives.
Wm. Wordsworth ( 1770-1850 ) Naturalist and Romantic Period Poet
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