And day by day the dead leaves fall and melt,
And night by night the monitory blast
Wails in the key-hole, telling how it pass'd
O'er empty fields, or upland solitudes,
Or grim wide wave; and now the power is felt
Of melancholy, tenderer in its moods
Than any joy indulgent Summer dealt.”—Irish poet William Allingham (1824-1889), “Autumnal Sonnet”
I took the photo accompanying this post in late October 2008, when I was in the area of Boston. I wish I had labeled more precisely where this poem was taken, because the only area I can distinctly recall where there was a body of water was Walden Pond.
It would be appropriate if it were Henry David Thoreau’s paradise that I was shooting. In any case, the great Transcendentalist, I think, might have found a kindred romantic spirit across the Atlantic in William Allingham.