“Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.”
Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892), British poet. The Princess (l. 164-168). . . Tennyson; a Selected Edition. Christopher Ricks, ed. (1989) University of California Press.
TIME: 6:16 PM
PLACE: Front yard
SUBJECT: Dried, dead flower
Autumn is my favorite season ~ I love the colors, the cool, crisp air, the celebrations of Halloween and Thanksgiving ~ but Autumn also brings out the melancholy in me. Autumn days seem to bring about more reminiscing than any of the other seasons do. The death of the plants, flowers and the leaves on the trees very much reminds me of my own mortality. I think about how we are not here on this earth for a long period of time and how stuff I think is very important really does not amount to much in the grand scheme of things. No matter what happens in my life, the earth will still turn; the sun will still rise in the east and set in the west and the cycle of the seasons will still continue.