What Happened to the Russian Autumn?

There Is A Spell In Autumn:

There is a spell in autumn early,
One all too brief, of an enchantment rare:
The nights are radiant and pearly,
The days, pellucid, crystal-clear.

Where played the sickle and fell the corn, a mellow,
A warm and breathless stillness reigns supreme;
Spanning the brown and idle furrow,
A dainty thread of cobweb gleams.

The birds have flown, we hear no more their clamor,
But winter’s angry winds not soon will start to blow –
Upon the empty fields there pours the azure glow
Of skies that have not lost the warmth of summer.

Fyodor Tyutchev (1803-1873)

** ** **

Posted by Kyle Keeton
Windows to Russia…