Harvest of Grapes on Autumn Vines

O FAR-OFF darling in the South,
Where grapes are loading down the vine,
And songs are in the throstle’s mouth,
While love’s complaints are here in mine,
Turn from the blue Tyrrhenian Sea!
Come back to me! Come back to me!

Here all the Northern skies are cold,
And in their wintriness they say
(With warnings by the winds foretold)
That love may grow as cold as they!
How ill the omen seems to be!
Come back to me! Come back to me!

Come back, and bring thy wandering heart—
Ere yet it be too far estranged!
Come back, and tell me that thou art
But little chilled, but little changed!
O love, my love, I love but thee!
Come back to me! Come back to me!

I long for thee from morn till night;
I long for thee from night till morn:
But love is proud, and any slight
Can sting it like a piercing thorn.
My bleeding heart cries out to thee—
Come back to me! Come back to me!

Come back, and pluck the nettle out;
Come kiss the wound, or love may die!
How can my heart endure the doubt?
Oh, judge its anguish by its cry!
Its cry goes piercingly to thee—
Come back to me! Come back to me!

What is to thee the summer long?
What is to thee the clustered vine?
What is to thee the throstle’s song,
Who sings of love, but not of mine?
Oh, turn from the Tyrrhenian Sea!
Come back to me! Come back to me!

Cœur de Lion to Berengaria
By Theodore Tilton
~~~

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Photography: Copyright, JayJacy Photography ©2017 All Rights Reserved

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Autumn at the Vineyards

Autumn, the most beautiful time of the year to celebrate the natural beauty of the vineyards and admire the foliage changes, ripe grapes on the vines and celebrate.  How àpropos for October adventures at your favorite Virginia wineries and vineyards.  Cheers to Autumn!

Hills of Home

OH! yon hills are filled with sunlight, and the green leaves paled to gold,
And the smoking mists of Autumn hanging faintly o’er the wold;
I dream of hills of other days whose sides I loved to roam
When Spring was dancing through the lanes of those distant hills of home.

The winds of heaven gathered there as pure and cold as dew;
Wood-sorrel and wild violets along the hedgerows grew,
The blossom on the pear-trees was as white as flakes of foam
In the orchard ’neath the shadow of those distant hills of home.

The first white frost in the meadow will be shining there to-day
And the furrowed upland glinting warm beside the woodland way;
There, a bright face and a clear hearth will be waiting when I come,
And my heart is throbbing wildly for those distant hills of home.
_Malcolm Hemphrey

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Photography: Copyright, JayJacy Photography ©2017 All Rights Reserved
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Autumn Beauty at Fox Meadow

One of the most beautiful and scenic sites your eyes will behold in Autumn is the fabulous Fox Meadow Vineyards.  As we travel Virginia Wine Country during this season we return to those wineries that are not only a feast for the eyes but also a feast of good wines.  Treat yourself and visit.

JayJacy.com

This photo is part of our Wine Country Art on Canvas Series.

To read about Fox Meadow and peruse our photography shoot, see our review and photos here.

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Photography: Copyright, JayJacy Photography ©2017 All Rights Reserved
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Something of the Vine’s Dream

JayJacy.com

~ ~ ~
“By God begotten,”

Hymned the sunning vine,
“In my lyric children
Purple music flows!”
 “Singer,” breathed the rose bush,
“Are they not divine?”
“Have you any daughters
Mighty as a rose?”

Gotten out of star-glint,
Mothered of the Moon;
 Nurtured with the rose scent,
Wild elusive throng!
Something of the vine’s dream
Crept into a tune;
Something of the wheat-drone
Echoed in a song.

Once again the white fires
Smoked among the plums;
Once again the world-joy
Burst the crimson bud;
 Golden-bannered wheat broods
Marched to fairy drums;
Once again the vineyard
Felt the Bacchic blood.

“Lo, he comes,—the dreamer”—
Crooned the whitened boughs,
“Quick with vernal love-fires—
Oh, at last he knows!
See the bursting plum bloom
There above his brows!”
 “Boaster!” breathed the rose bush,
“’Tis a budding rose!”

Droned the glinting acres,
“In his soul, mayhap,
Something like a wheat-dream
Quickens into shape!”
Sang the sunning vineyard,
“Lo, the lyric sap
Sets his heart a-throbbing
Like a purple grape!”

Mother of the wheatlands,
Mother of the plums,
Mother of the vineyard—
All that loves and grows—
Such a living glory
To the dreamer comes,
Mystic as a wheat-song,
Mighty as a rose!”
~ ~ ~

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* Excerpts, John G. Neihardt

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Photography: Copyright, JayJacy Photography ©2013 All Rights Reserved
For more information about JayJacy Photography, please visit at JayJacy.com, Facebook or comment below.
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