The Winter Wind by L.M. Montgomery

In January 1904, L.M. Montgomery published the poem "The Winter Wind" in The Farm Journal, a journal devoted to the farm, orchard, garden, poultry and household economy. The journal's motto was "Practical not Fancy Farming."

Here is a digitized image of the poem scanned from microfilm available at Archive.org:


Here is the full text of the poem:

THE WINTER WIND
BY L. M. MONTGOMERY

I am the gladdest of winds that blow
Though I come from the realms of ice and snow.

I waken the notes of the pine tree lyres
When the sunset kindles its crimson fires.

I dance over meadows and valleys white
In the sparkling frost of a winter night.

I croon a song that is low and sweet
When the dawn creeps out on her silver feet.

I nip and pinch with a right good will
The children’s cheeks on the coasting hill.

I sting to action the hearts of those
I meet on my way from the Northland snows.

Laughter rings when I whistle by,
For a right good, rollicking wind am I.


Reference:
Montgomery, L.M. (1904, January). The Winter Wind. The Farm Journal. 28(1): 1. Retrieved from: https://archive.org/details/sim_farm-journal_1904-01_28_1/mode/2up

Created November 12, 2022.
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November had been a vexing month

"But November had been a vexing month all through...one day glorious...the next day savage."
-L.M. Montgomery
Mistress Pat

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Created November 5, 2022. Last updated April 19, 2024.
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The Time of the Clover Blossom by L.M. Montgomery

In June 1904, L.M. Montgomery published the poem "The Time of the Clover Blossom" in The Farm Journal, a journal devoted to the farm, orchard, garden, poultry and household economy. The journal's motto was "Practical not Fancy Farming."

Here is a digitized image of the poem scanned from microfilm available at Archive.org:


Here is the full text of the poem:

THE TIME OF THE CLOVER BLOSSOM
BY L. M. MONTGOMERY

The wind from the slopes of pineland

Drifts over the wide green fields

To mingle its breath with the incense

That rose-red clover yields;

The clouds on the far horizon

Are white in the peaceful blue,

And the brooks are tenderly crooning

The sun-warm valleys through.

All over the leagues of grasses

The shadows and ripples go,

And a bluebird is blithely singing

In the pasture down below;

For he knows that near him is cradled

His mate in her tiny nest,

And the time of the clover blossom

Is the sweetest and the best.

Song on the hills and uplands,

Song in the meadows fair,

Song in the beautiful valleys,

Song on the forest air!

And a gladness deep and lasting

That broods on the starry sod—

In the time of the clover blossom,

The world is near to God.

Reference:
Montgomery, L.M. (1904, June). The Time of the Clover Blossom. The Farm Journal. 28(6): 223. Retrieved from: https://archive.org/details/sim_farm-journal_1904-06_28_6/page/222/mode/2up

Created November 4, 2022.
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Buttercups by L.M. Montgomery

In May 1910, L.M. Montgomery published the poem "Buttercups" in The Farm Journal, a journal devoted to the farm, orchard, garden, poultry and household economy. The journal's motto was "Practical not Fancy Farming."

Here is a digitized image of the poem scanned from microfilm available at Archive.org:


Here is the full text of the poem:

BUTTERCUPS
BY L. M. MONTGOMERY

Like showers of gold-dust on the marsh,

Or an inverted sky,

The buttercups are dancing now

Where silver brooks run by.

Bright, bright,

As fallen flakes of light,

They nod

In time to every breeze

That chases shadows swiftly lost

Amid those grassy seas.

See what a golden frenzy flies

Through the light-hearted flowers!

In mimic fear they flutter now,

Each fairy blossom cowers.

Then up, then up,

Each shakes its yellow cup

And nods

In careless grace once more—

A very flood of sunshine seems

Across the marsh to pour.

Reference:
Montgomery, L.M. (1910, May). Buttercups. The Farm Journal. 34(5): 311. Retrieved from: https://archive.org/details/sim_farm-journal_1910-05_34_5/page/310/mode/2up

Created November 3, 2022.
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Nutting Song by L.M. Montgomery

In November 1906, L.M. Montgomery published the poem/song lyrics "Nutting Song" in The Farm Journal, a journal devoted to the farm, orchard, garden, poultry and household economy. The journal's motto was "Practical not Fancy Farming."

Here is a digitized image of the poem scanned from microfilm available at Archive.org:


Here is the full text of the poem:

NUTTING SONG

Light, light, rings our laughter

O’er valley and hill,

To chime with the musical

Call of the rill.

The blue skies above

With their sunshine o'erflow,

And over the meadows

Beguiling winds blow—

Heigh-ho for the nutting.

Through the boughs of the chestnuts

The mellow lights fall,

And the song of the nutters

Rings clear over all.

The maples are flame

On the crest of the hill,

And amethyst hazes

The far valleys fill

In the time of the nutting.

The mornings are frosty,

The noons are a-gleam,

The blue air is quivering

Over the stream.

The wood ways are drifted

With billows of gold,

And the world sings a song

That can never grow old

In the time of the nutting.

Oh, ours is the laughter,

The frolic and mirth,

The heyday of autumn,

The bounty of earth.

The music that echoes

The whole world along

Is borne in our hearts

And enchained in our song

In the time of the nutting.

L. M. MONTGOMERY.

Reference:
Montgomery, L.M. (1906, November). Nutting Song. The Farm Journal. 30(11): 374. Retrieved from: https://archive.org/details/sim_farm-journal_1906-11_30_11/page/374/mode/2up

Created November 2, 2022.
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November Dusk by L.M. Montgomery

In November 1904, L.M. Montgomery published the poem "November Dusk" in The Farm Journal, a journal devoted to the farm, orchard, garden, poultry and household economy. The journal's motto was "Practical not Fancy Farming."

Here is a digitized image of the poem scanned from microfilm available at Archive.org:


Here is the full text of the poem:

NOVEMBER DUSK

A weird and dreamy stillness falls upon
The purple, breathless earth, the wind-less woods,
The wimpling rims of valley solitudes,
The wide, gray stubble-fields and fallows wan—
A quiet hush, as if, her heyday gone,
Tired Nature folded weary hands for rest
Across the faded vesture of her breast,
Knowing her wintry slumbers hasten on.
Far and away beyond the ocean’s rim
The dull-red sunset fades into the gray
Of sombre, wind-rent clouds that marshall grim
Around the closing portals of the day,
While from the margin of the tawny shore
Comes up the voice of waters evermore.

L. M. MONTGOMERY.

Reference:
Montgomery, L.M. (1904, November). November Dusk. The Farm Journal. 28(11): 372. Retrieved from: https://archive.org/details/sim_farm-journal_1904-11_28_11/page/372/mode/2up

Created November 1, 2022.
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something especially spooky in the way of ghosts

"a ghost you couldn't see but could hear and feel was something especially spooky in the way of ghosts"
-L.M. Montgomery
Emily of New Moon

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Image credit:
Photograph by World of Anne Shirley.

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Created October 31, 2022. Last updated April 19, 2024.
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Down in the Pastures by L.M. Montgomery

In July 1906, L.M. Montgomery published the poem "Down in the Pastures" in The Farm Journal, a journal devoted to the farm, orchard, garden, poultry and household economy. The journal's motto was "Practical not Fancy Farming."

Here is a digitized image of the poem scanned from microfilm available at Archive.org:



Here is the full text of the poem:

DOWN IN THE PASTURES
BY L. M. MONTGOMERY

Down in the pastures, remote and cool,

In the glow of a golden afternoon,

Where the calm-eyed cows by the birchen pool

Browse, and meandering breezes croon

Among the clover and daisies there,
In the wine-like sweetness of summer air,

I rambled to-day—no companionships

Of human creatures, no voice save the low
Leaf murmurs that wandered to and fro,

And the brook’s mysterious sibylline lips.

A bluebird, perched on a picket gray,

Sang a song that was blithe and free;

It looked askance as I passed that way,

Yet the shy thing seemed not afraid of me.

And each wild rose that opened there
Its virgin lips to the calm blue air

Among the bracken a welcome gave,

And I felt that everything, flower and bird,
By some subtle instinct of joy was stirred,

Such as mortals know not and vainly crave.

O, it was sweet on this summer day

To learn my kinship to those wild things,

To feel as unfettered and glad as they

And as if my spirit at least had wings,

To lay my heart against Nature’s own
Till the haunting music of each deep tone

Passed into my soul with a rapt release

From the pain and turmoil of outer life,
To forget the meaning of selfish strife

And learn the depth of primeval peace.

Reference:
Montgomery, L.M. (1906, July). Down in the Pastures. The Farm Journal. 30(7): 234. Retrieved from: https://archive.org/details/sim_farm-journal_1906-07_30_7/page/234/mode/2up

Created October 30, 2022.
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