On russet Floors

On russet floors,by waters idle,

The pine lets fall its cone,

The cuckoo shouts all day at nothing

In leafy dells alone;

And traveler's joy beguiles in autumn

Hearts that have lost their own.

For nature, heartless, witless nature

Will neither care nor know

What stranger's feet may find the meadow

And trespass there and go,

Nor ask amid the dews of morning

If they are mine or no.

excerpts from "Tell Me Not Here, It  Needs Not Saying                                                   by A.E. Houseman

Sometimes in the dark mornings I look through my Dad's old book of Poetry. I thought parts of this one went nicely with this picture painted by my Grandma. She was in her 80's when she started painting. This is the one that I've inherited, but there are others. My favourite still hangs in my Dad's house.