October, 1999 Monthly Feature : Each month I have been putting together some of my favourites to share with you. Archives A Dream of the Past In my part of the world, autumn strode through the valley last week - leaving pockets of frost in his footprints. The hills have begun to blush with fall colours, and soon they will be blazing in gold and crimson and every orange hue ever seen. Sometimes when the light is just right, they seem to glow and the color almost shimmers before your eyes. The mornings are cool and crisp, with just a little bite of winter's promise in the air. The sun still shines warm at midday but then a sudden coolness grasps us again in late afternoon. For all the beauty of this season, it is also overshadowed by a sense of loss - of light, of colour, of warmth. The endless days of summer are gone, and we know that nature's games of gold will be followed by bitter cold and long dark nights. In response, perhaps, to the lowered skies and shortened horizons, we find ourselves huddling close together in small pools of light by suppertime. As we mourn the passing of summer as well as the transitory nature of life that this season symbolizes, I would like to share these selections with you: Featured Artist: Sir John Everett Millais Autumn Leaves. Originally titled A Dream of the Past Featured Poet: Rupert Brooke Day That I Have Loved Musical Selection: Samuel Barber Adagio for Strings 1 Performed by the Philharmonic Orchestra. (5,396 KB) Why don't you go brew a pot of tea (I recommend Russian Caravan - delicous smokey flavor) while you download the music. Thank you for stopping in Heart's Ease, I hope you enjoyed your stay. K.M.G. Day That I Have Loved Tenderly, day that I have loved, I close your eyes, And smooth your quiet brow, and fold your thin dead hands. The Gray veils of the half-light deepen; colour dies. I bear you, a light burden, to the shrouded sands, Where lies your waiting boat, by wreaths of the sea's making Mist-garlanded, with all grey weeds of the water crowned. There you'll be laid, past fear of sleep or hope of waking; And over the unmoving sea, without a sound, Faint hands will row you outward, out beyond our sight, Us with stretched arms and empty eyes on the far-gleaming And marble sand. . . . Beyond the shifting cold twilight, Further than laughter goes, or tears, further than dreaming, There'll be no port, no dawn-lit islands! But the drear Waste darkening, and, at length, flame ultimate on the deep. Oh, the last fire -- and you, unkissed, unfriended there! Oh, the lone way's red ending, and we not there to weep! (We found you pale and quiet, and strangely crowned with flowers, Lovely and secret as a child. You came with us, Came happily, hand in hand with the young dancing hours, High on the downs at dawn!) Void now and tenebrous, The grey sands curve before me. . . . From the inland meadows, Fragrant of June and clover, floats the dark, and fills The hollow sea's dead face with little creeping shadows, And the white silence brims the hollow of the hills. Close in the nest is folded every weary wing, Hushed all the joyful voices; and we, who held you dear, Eastward we turn and homeward, alone, remembering . . . Day that I loved, day that I loved, the Night is here! Past Features 1In MP3 format. If you are unable to play this file, check out WINAMP. This is a very good MP3 player from Nullsoft, Inc. that you can download today.