October 9, 2012

Warmer this morning, and will get warmer still, but the sky is more blue by the second, and the clear autumn light fills the yard.  There are a lot of birds out this morning, cardinals, blue jays, even woodpeckers and the little finches.  Suddenly the leaves look thinner and there is more sun shining through the leaves.  The chaste trees leaves begin to look wilted and thinner, and the maple is starting to go more gold at the top.  Our bald cypress has been fading for weeks now until it is a kind of orangey green, tilting more toward rust every day.  New shnoots of can are poking up while the blossoms on the older cane have thinned out, leaving only the skeletons of the flowers, lace with the sky showing through.  We still have wind in spurts but changing direction now, so the long notes of the chime are missing.

The black-eyed susans and the ragweed are certainly growing rampant this season, along the roadside and over the berms by the Port.  Such a profusion of cheerful yellow and rust and brown!  I looked for a poem about the black-eyed susan and actually found there is a legend about them, from a poem writtn in the early 18th century by John Gay.  So, as a change from the usual poetry I send, I thought I would include it.

Sweet William's Farewell to
Black-eye Susan

All in the Downs the fleet was moor’d,
The streamers waving in the wind,
When black-ey’d Susan came aboard.
Oh! where shall I my true love find!
Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true,
If my sweet William sails among the crew.

William, who high upon the yard,
Rock’d with the billow to and fro,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard,
He sigh’d, and cast his eyes below:
The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands,
And, (quick as lightning) on the deck he stands.

So the sweet lark, high pois’d in air,
Shuts close his pinions to his breast,
(If, chance, his mate’s shrill call he hear)
And drops at once into her nest.
The noblest captain in the British fleet,
Might envy William’s lip those kisses sweet.

“O Susan, Susan, lovely dear,
My vows shall ever true remain;
Let me kiss off that falling tear,
We only part to meet again.
Change, as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be
The faithful compass that still points to thee.

“Believe not what the landmen say,
Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind:
They’ll tell thee, sailors, when away,
In ev’ry port a mistress find.
Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so,
For thou art present wheresoe’er I go.

“If to far India’s coast we sail,
Thy eyes are seen in di’monds bright,
Thy breath is Afric’s spicy gale,
Thy skin is ivory, so white.
Thus ev’ry beauteous object that I view,
Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue.

“Though battle call me from thy arms
Let not my pretty Susan mourn;
Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms,
William shall to his dear return.
Love turns aside the balls that round me fly,
Lest precious tears should drop from Susan’s eye”.

The boatswain gave the dreadful word,
The sails their swelling bosom spread,
No longer must she stay aboard:
They kiss’d, she sigh’d, he hung his head.
Her less’ning boat, unwilling rows to land:
“Adieu”, she cries! and wav’d her lily hand.

John Gay

And so if you plant sweet william and black-eyed susans together they are still constant, blooming together over the centuries.  It is said they often bloom on exactly the same day.  I just like the romance of the story and the idea that the names of the flowers have such a history behind them.  If something so simple as a flower can have such a story of its life, so much more can each human have their own story told and remembered.  And when I read a poem, that's what I am reading, the story of some human life recorded and remembered.