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The Pinecone
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October 2013
When September ushers in autumn, Memphis showcases Nature at her
finest. Our forests, farms, and gardens round out their final season with rich
harvests and spectacular colors. This “full season” is my favorite. This month,
the First Monday Poetry Group will share the nature poems they love. Among
their favorites for review is the William Wordsworth poem Perfect Woman.
Just as nature changes with the seasons, the poet describes her changes when
she is viewed at different times in her life. This rich metaphor has been used
by poets in all cultures over the centuries, and it remains a favorite today. It is
the central metaphor of our featured resident poem for September, Autumn’s
Bounty. This sonnet is a tribute to a fellow resident whose beauty has come to
fullness in the autumn of life. It is proudly displayed in the Poet’s Corner of
the bulletin-board in the Kirby Pines Post Office. Please join the poetry group
on Monday, September 3 at 10 AM in the Ante Room and enjoy the reading
and recitation of the group’s chosen nature poems.
-
Val Reed, First Monday Poetry Group
What a celebration in September! Wasn’t it grand to be
30?
The Poetry Group was honored to be part of the
party. Our first “Reading Recital” was so much fun, we
look forward to doing more. We were energized to see
our First Fruits anthology of members’ poems on sale
and look forward to helping the library increase holdings
of poetry books. When we meet again on October 7
[
at 10 AM in the ante room], our theme will be “Scary
Things.” My search for a study poem netted the fun verse
above. Although the author is not known, his/her sense
of humor shines through. Have some fun with words;
enjoy the pun. How many words for ghost can you find?
Perfect Woman
A poem by
William Wordsworth [1770 -1850]
She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleam’d upon my sight;
A lovely apparition sent
To be a moment’s ornament.
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;
Like twilight’s too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
FromMay-time and the cheerful dawn;
A dancing shape, an image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
I saw her upon nearer view.
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet:
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature’s daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.
And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A being breathing thoughtful breath,
A traveller between life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength and skill;
A perfect Woman, nobly plann’d
To warn, to comfort and command;
And yet a spirit still, and bright
With something of angelic light.
The Ghost of a Flower
Anonymous
“
You’re what?”
asked the common or garden spook
Of a stranger at midnight’s hour.
And the shade replied
with a graceful glide,
“
Why, I’m the ghost of a flower.”
“
The ghost of a flower?”
said the old-time spook;
“
That’s a brand-new one on me;
I never supposed a flower had a ghost,
Though I’ve seen the shade of a tree.”
