Poems (Jackson)/October (Bending above the spicy woods which blaze)

by Helen Hunt Jackson

For works with similar titles, see October.

OCTOBER.

ENDING above the spicy woods which blaze,Arch skies so blue they flash, and hold the sunImmeasurably far; the waters runToo slow, so freighted are the river-waysWith gold of elms and birches from the mazeOf forests. Chestnuts, clicking one by one,Escape from satin burs; her fringes done,The gentian spreads them out in sunny days,And, like late revellers at dawn, the chance.Of one sweet, mad, last hour, all things assail,And conquering, flush and spin; while, to enhanceThe spell, by sunset door, wrapped in a veilOf red and purple mists, the summer, pale,Steals back alone for one more song and dance.