Poems (Jackson)/September (The golden-rod is yellow)
Jump to navigation
Jump to search
HE golden-rod is yellow;
The corn is turning brown;
The trees in apple orchards
With fruit are bending down.
For works with similar titles, see September.
SEPTEMBER.
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.
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,
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.
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.
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,
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.
To name it thrills me yet:
One day of one September
I never can forget.