Farewell, Poet, And the Seasons will Mend

 

And now September burns the careful tree
That builds each year the leaf and bark again
With solemn care and rounded certainty
That nothing lives which seasons do not mend.

The young are never robbed of innocence
But given gold of love and memory.
We live in wealth whose bounds exceed our sense,
And when we die are full of memory.

by Donald Hall

 

Mr. Hall died last Saturday, June 30th. He was 89.

donald-hall

photo credit

 read the tribute here

Published by

Carolyn Dennis-Willingham

Carolyn is the author of two published books – No Hill for a Stepper, 2001, and The Last Bordello, 2016. Her third novel, The Moonshine Thicket, is set in 1928 and is currently enduring a professional edit. When not on her laptop, she serves as a lap top for her grandchildren. She is a retired Early Childhood Specialist, a fitness boxer, artist, and a ball thrower for her ever-persistent mini Aussie. In addition to her blogging website, carolyndenniswillingham.com, you may find her on Facebook and Twitter.

2 thoughts on “Farewell, Poet, And the Seasons will Mend

  1. Indeed. What inspired me was listening to an NPR broadcast today. It was replayed in his honor. In it, he was asked if he thinks he will live on through his words. He said he didn’t know but probably not over time. That’s why I wrote this blog. Yes, Mr. Hall, your words have traveled on. (I suppose I should have mentioned this in my blog!)

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