Poems (Jackson)/Asters and Golden-Rod

by Helen Hunt Jackson

ASTERS AND GOLDEN ROD.

KNOW the lands are litWith all the autumn blaze of Golden Rod;And everywhere the Purple Asters nod  And bend and wave and flit.

  But when the names I hear,I never picture how their pageant liesSpread out in tender stateliness of guise,  The fairest of the year.

  I only see one nook,A wooded nook—half sun, half shade—Where one I love his footsteps sudden stayed,  And whispered, "Darling, look!"

  Two oak leaves, vivid green,Hung low among the ferns, and parted wide;While purple Aster Stars, close side by side,  Like faces peered between.

  Like maiden faces setIn vine-wreathed window, waiting shy and gladFor joys whose dim, mysterious promise had  But promise been, as yet.

  And, like proud lovers bent,In regal courtesy, as kings might woo,Tall Golden Rods, bareheaded in the dew,  Above the Asters leant.

  Ah, me! Lands will be litWith every autumn's blaze of Golden Rod,And purple Asters everywhere will nod  And bend and wave and flit;

  Until, like ripened seed,This little earth itself, some noon, shall floatOff into space, a tiny shining mote,  Which none but God will heed;

  But never more will beSweet Asters peering through that branch of oakTo hear such precious words as dear lips spoke  That sunny day to me.