Sunday, November 4, 2012

Sunset Reflections

As the mountain is to our west, we don't see sunsets. But we do get the reflected glory,  especially when the eastern mountains are covered with snow.  And the first two lines of this poem by Tennyson always pop into the crowded mathom house I call my mind...
The splendour falls on castle walls
                And snowy summits old in story:
         The long light shakes across the lakes,
                And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
   O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
                And thinner, clearer, farther going!
         O sweet and far from cliff and scar
                The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
  O love, they die in yon rich sky,
                They faint on hill or field or river:
         Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
                And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

Tennyson is quaint and old-fashioned to most but being quaint and old-fashioned myself and having studied Tennyson in college, I still have a great affection for some of his poems.
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Juliet said...

Wonderful skies, and Tennyson has such passionate rhythms!

Ms. A said...

The second and fourth photo are gorgeous!

Unknown said...

Wonderful Vicki. Thank you. Your books are doing the rounds of our Book Club.. and very popular they are!

Poetry24 said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Poetry24 said...

And oh, how those photographs complement the poetry.

Brian Miller said...

ah just lovely...what a wonderful choice to go with the beauty of your mountains...

NCmountainwoman said...

I love Tennyson as well. I recall reading this in high school and was confused about the use of cataract. When I found out what else the word meant, I loved this all the more. It definitely captures my feelings about the mountains.

Gwen said...

The poem reminds me of my years at Virginia Tech. The university is situated in a "bowl" among the mountains. At the heart of campus is an oval drill field, about 1 mile in circumference. Every night at sundown, four buglers from the Corps of Cadets would station themselves around the drill field and play Taps in a round. One of the most beautiful sights and sounds ever. I can close my eyes and still hear it in my mind. Thanks for the memories!

JJ Roa Rodriguez said...

postcard materials... beautiful!


Brenda said...

That second photo, the close up, looks like a photo taken in Switzerland... or somewhere equally exotic!

Vicki Lane said...

Joan -- how exciting to think of my books making friends in NZ!

Gwen -- what a lovely memory -- I'll bet one got goosebumps hearing that.