Nevermore

Today marks the end of the passeport vaccinal that, hopefully, won't ever have to rear its head again.

 Above: a raven perches on a balcony

 

Golden song

 

Fallen leaves on the ground are the golden song of immortal creativity. - Amit Ray

 

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Autumn in Montmartre

Fall, leaves, fall

Emily Brontë

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day.

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Autumn in Montmartre

If winter comes

 

Leaves have started to fall in Père Lachaise Cemetery.

 

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Yesterday was National Poetry Day in the U.K.

 

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From "Ode To The West Wind" by Percy Bysshe Shelley

O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,

Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,
Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou,
Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed ...

The trumpet of a prophecy!

O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

 

 

Poet's door

A former residence of poet Théodore De Banville.

 

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Nous n’irons plus au bois, les lauriers sont coupés.

 

We will no longer go to the woods, the laurels have been cut off.