Poems (Jackson)/September Woods
IRT round by meadows wearing shabby weedsFor clover's early death, and sentried byThe tireless locust, with his muffled clickOf secret weapon, at each footfall, standThe woods.The woods.September, smiling treacherous smiles,And bearing in his hand a hollow truceWhich gentle Summer trusts, can enter free.O fatal trust! Her sacred inner courtOf Holies, holiest, the lovely queenThrows open to the ally of her foe.By day, with sunny look and gracious airHe wins her heart and wears her colors. NightBeholds him, in his white and gleaming mail,Alert and noiseless, following the dews,Her faithful messengers, waylaying themWith sudden cruel death, and, in their stead,His own foul treason bearing through the realm.Lured by his guile, the green and twining vinesArray themselves in party-colored robesAnd loosely flaunt, unknowing 't is their death.The low Bunch-Berry her nun's white lays by,And wearing claret satin, decks her breastWith knots of scarlet beads. This sin, O sweet,In resurrection of the coming Spring,Shall be forgiven thee, and thou againShalt rise, as white as snow. The fragrant ferns,And clinging mosses, to whom Summer kindHad been, more than to other lowly things,Are true; and not till they are trampled lowBy icy warriors, will they refuseTheir emerald carpet to her tread, and then,In cold white grief, will die around her feet:The simpering Birch, unstable in the wind,Is first to break his faith, and cheaply boughtBy gold, in brazen vanity, lifts upHis arms, and broadly waves the glittering priceOf his dishonor: Poplars next and ElmsGrow envious of the yellow shEw, and holdTheir hands for traitor's wages; but more scantAnd dim the golden tokens gained by them;For now disloyalty has spread, and grownMore bold of front: whole clans are cheaply won.In hostile signal fires from hill to hill,The Maples blaze; the tangled Sumach-treesOf glowing spikes build crimson ladders upThe wall; ungainly Moosewood strives and creepsAnd shakes his purple-spotted banner outDefiantly; the sturdy Beeches throwTheir harvest down, and bristle in a suitOf leathern points: all is revolt, and allIs lost for Summer!Is lost for Summer!Vainly now she showersBy brook and pool her white and purple stars,And lifts in all the fields her Golden-Rod;In vain thin scarlet streamers sets alongThe meadows, and to Gentian's pallid lipsOf blue calls back the chilled and torpid bee; Sweet queen, her kingdom rocks! Her only stayAnd comfort now, the loving Pines who waitIn solemn grief, unmoved and undismayedBy guile or threats, and to their farthest kin,A haughty and untarnished race, will keepEternally inviolate and greenTheir sworn allegiance to her and allHer name! Encircled by their arms she dies;And not the deadliest thrusts of wintry spears,Nor sweeping avalanche of snow and ice,Can daunt them from their silent watch aroundHer sepulchre, nor from their faithful holdCan wrest the babe, who, hid in sacred depthsAnd fed on sacred food, and nurtured tillThe fated day, shall lift her infant hand,And slaying the usurper, take the throneNext in the royal line of summer queens.
SEPTEMBER WOODS.
IRT round by meadows wearing shabby weedsFor clover's early death, and sentried byThe tireless locust, with his muffled clickOf secret weapon, at each footfall, standThe woods.The woods.September, smiling treacherous smiles,And bearing in his hand a hollow truceWhich gentle Summer trusts, can enter free.O fatal trust! Her sacred inner courtOf Holies, holiest, the lovely queenThrows open to the ally of her foe.By day, with sunny look and gracious airHe wins her heart and wears her colors. NightBeholds him, in his white and gleaming mail,Alert and noiseless, following the dews,Her faithful messengers, waylaying themWith sudden cruel death, and, in their stead,His own foul treason bearing through the realm.Lured by his guile, the green and twining vinesArray themselves in party-colored robesAnd loosely flaunt, unknowing 't is their death.The low Bunch-Berry her nun's white lays by,And wearing claret satin, decks her breastWith knots of scarlet beads. This sin, O sweet,In resurrection of the coming Spring,Shall be forgiven thee, and thou againShalt rise, as white as snow. The fragrant ferns,And clinging mosses, to whom Summer kindHad been, more than to other lowly things,Are true; and not till they are trampled lowBy icy warriors, will they refuseTheir emerald carpet to her tread, and then,In cold white grief, will die around her feet:The simpering Birch, unstable in the wind,Is first to break his faith, and cheaply boughtBy gold, in brazen vanity, lifts upHis arms, and broadly waves the glittering priceOf his dishonor: Poplars next and ElmsGrow envious of the yellow shEw, and holdTheir hands for traitor's wages; but more scantAnd dim the golden tokens gained by them;For now disloyalty has spread, and grownMore bold of front: whole clans are cheaply won.In hostile signal fires from hill to hill,The Maples blaze; the tangled Sumach-treesOf glowing spikes build crimson ladders upThe wall; ungainly Moosewood strives and creepsAnd shakes his purple-spotted banner outDefiantly; the sturdy Beeches throwTheir harvest down, and bristle in a suitOf leathern points: all is revolt, and allIs lost for Summer!Is lost for Summer!Vainly now she showersBy brook and pool her white and purple stars,And lifts in all the fields her Golden-Rod;In vain thin scarlet streamers sets alongThe meadows, and to Gentian's pallid lipsOf blue calls back the chilled and torpid bee; Sweet queen, her kingdom rocks! Her only stayAnd comfort now, the loving Pines who waitIn solemn grief, unmoved and undismayedBy guile or threats, and to their farthest kin,A haughty and untarnished race, will keepEternally inviolate and greenTheir sworn allegiance to her and allHer name! Encircled by their arms she dies;And not the deadliest thrusts of wintry spears,Nor sweeping avalanche of snow and ice,Can daunt them from their silent watch aroundHer sepulchre, nor from their faithful holdCan wrest the babe, who, hid in sacred depthsAnd fed on sacred food, and nurtured tillThe fated day, shall lift her infant hand,And slaying the usurper, take the throneNext in the royal line of summer queens.