The moon now rises to her absolute rule,
And the husbandman and hunter
Acknowledge her for their mistress.
Asters and golden reign in the fields
And the life everlasting withers not.
The fields are reaped and shorn of their pride
But an inward verdure still crowns them.
The thistle scatters its down on the pool
And yellow leaves clothe the river….
Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood
In brighter light, and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?
Alas! they all are in their graves, the gentle race, of flowers
Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours.
The rain is falling where they lie, but the cold November rain
Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.
The wind-flower and the violet, they perished long ago,
And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow;
But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood,
And the yellow sun-flower by the brook in autumn beauty stood….
In my last post (see Bees on Blooms!), I showed photographs of some of the bees and wasps that entertained me a couple of weeks ago at Oakland Cemetery’s gardens. In this post (and the next two), I’m featuring some of the additional Aster varieties scattered throughout the gardens — the “bee-free versions” if you will — that include a nice mix of mums, daisies, and coneflower in a variety of different colors. Below are the first ten photos.
Thanks for taking a look!