Injun Summer
It's raining now, and sadly it is stripping the bright orange leaves off one of my favorite trees in the courtyard to, happily, tumble into on an impending chilly day.
The Indian Summer
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
From his pipe the smoke ascending
Filled the sky with haze and vapor,
Filled the air with dreamy softness,
Gave a twinkle to the water,
Touched the rugged hills with smoothness,
Brought the tender Indian Summer
To the melancholy north-land,
In the dreary Moon of Snow-shoes.
Injun Summer(1907), by Indiana's own Dean of American Cartoonists, John T. McCutcheon...
posted by phil at 8:04 PM
2 Comments:
The rhythm of Longfellow's poetry always makes me think of Native American language. This is beautiful and I don't remember ever reading it. Thanks, Phil.
Ours is gone today and the glorious cool breezes have arrived.
yw, willow.
The beautiful coolness also has arrived here.
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