Philip Larkin’s Fall

Mother, Summer, I

by Philip Larkin

My mother, who hates thunder storms,
Holds up each summer day and shakes
It out suspiciously, lest swarms
Of grape-dark clouds are lurking there;
But when the August weather breaks
And rains begin, and brittle frost
Sharpens the bird-abandoned air,
Her worried summer look is lost,

And I her son, though summer-born
And summer-loving, none the less
Am easier when the leaves are gone
Too often summer days appear
Emblems of perfect happiness
I can’t confront: I must await
A time less bold, less rich, less clear:
An autumn more appropriate.

{see also, Emily Dickinson’s fall}

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13 thoughts on “Philip Larkin’s Fall

  1. beenbrun says:

    beautiful photos

  2. beenbrun says:

    beautiful photos

  3. David P. says:

    Lovely! Thanks so much for sharing that.

  4. Lisa Curcio says:

    Poem and photos–how sublime!

  5. Alisa says:

    what a lovely post! Fall leaves and verse on a grey New England morning.

  6. Grace says:

    Ahhh… such a nice way to start the day. Thanks Dottie.

  7. Lauren says:

    Wow, these photos are gorgeous! Way to make me want to go back to Chicago stat ;)

  8. Anonenity says:

    Why look so forlorn?
    ‘Tis ’cause Summer’s gone?
    (May) This Fall bring you Nature’s Splendour colours afire
    And grant you all that your heart’s desires. ;)
    {Hmmm…hmmmm … my 2cent ‘jingle’ … :-p :-D ;-)}

  9. Such beautiful fall photos! It just (finally) turned to summer here in San Francisco, but having grown up in New England, I always long for autumn.

  10. Jbiker says:

    Yay! Your unhelmeted head is much preferred

  11. […] beauty of the season, I’ll share with you one of my favorite songs, Indian Summer, instead of a poem this […]

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