Monday, September 24, 2012

Some of us call it Autumn, and others call it God.

Whenever I check my blog stats (which is not very often, and also, they're never very good), the phrase "some call it autumn and others call it god" is consistently on the list of search terms that lead people here. It was the title of a post I wrote three years ago in November, and when I googled the phrase today to find out where it came from, my blog was the third result. Unfortunately for the people looking for that line, that blog post offers no further explanation. Fortunately for them, and me, the first result is the poem in its entirety. I was in a poetry class three years ago and I'm sure I read the poem then, but I didn't make a note of it anywhere that would allow me to find it again, and when I read it again today, it was like it was the first time. It's so beautiful and I have to share it here in hopes that the people searching for this poem will now be able to find it.

"Each in his own Tongue," by William Herbert Carruth

A fire-mist and a planet,
A crystal and a cell,
A jelly-fish and a saurian,
And caves where the cave-men dwell;
Then a sense of law and beauty
And a face turned from the clod, --
Some call it Evolution,
And others call it God.

A haze on the far horizon,
The infinite, tender sky,
The ripe, rich tint of the cornfields,
And the wild geese sailing high;
And all over upland and lowland
The charm of the golden-rod, --
Some of us call it Autumn,
And others call it God.

Like tides on a crescent sea-beach,
When the moon is new and thin,
Into our hearts high yearnings
Come welling and surging in:
Come from the mystic ocean,
Whose rim no foot has trod, --
Some of us calling it Longing,
And others call it God.

A picket frozen on duty,
A mother starved for her brood,
Socrates drinking the hemlock,
And Jesus on the rood;
And millions who, humble and nameless,
The straight, hard pathway plod, --
Some call it Consecration,
And others call it God.

How thoughtful! How true! How deliberate! This poem is a masterpiece. And this fall is a masterpiece. The weather changed in a hurry and I was left longing for summer but I cannot begrudge this beautiful fall. The weather has been so lovely and I got to go camping on Friday night. The drive back from New Hampshire on Saturday morning was already so full of bursting foliage that I gasped out loud several times. 

The weekend brought other beautiful moments as well. My dear brother Chase got home from his mission in Argentina so all 8 of my family members were together again (that counts McAnnie's baby). We went kayaking on Saturday evening, we sang in church on Sunday, we ate together and talked and laughed and danced. It's easy to be happy in New England in the fall. Some call it a lucky season, and I call it [a manifestation of] God.

2 comments:

  1. Beautiful poem and wonderful entry Kamian! I celebrated with you all in spirit. (And by the way I love the name McAnnie...lol! Never heard her called that. That's great!)

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  2. That bit about autumn really reminds me of New England this time of year...oh I miss it.

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