The following is a poem our mom always repeated in the fall, and I have followed suit. At least with the first stanza or two. It is one of two favorite fall poems...when I worked at the orchard this went round and round and round in my head. I almost drove myself crazy!
SEPTEMBER
by: Helen Hunt Jackson (1830-1885)
HE golden-rod is yellow; - The corn is turning brown;
- The trees in apple orchards
- With fruit are bending down.
-
- The gentian's bluest fringes
- Are curling in the sun;
- In dusty pods the milkweed
- Its hidden silk has spun.
-
- The sedges flaunt their harvest,
- In every meadow nook;
- And asters by the brook-side
- Make asters in the brook.
-
- From dewy lanes at morning
- The grapes' sweet odors rise;
- At noon the roads all flutter
- With yellow butterflies.
-
- By all these lovely tokens
- September days are here,
- With summer's best of weather,
- And autumn's best of cheer.
-
- But none of all this beauty
- Which floods the earth and air
- Is unto me the secret
- Which makes September fair.
-
- 'T is a thing which I remember;
- To name it thrills me yet:
- One day of one September
- I never can forget.
