 | The poetical works of Lucy Larcom |  |
OCTOBER.
September days were green and fair,
But sharp winds pierced the shining air,
That froze the dimples of the river,
And made the wayside blossom shiver.
But sharp winds pierced the shining air,
That froze the dimples of the river,
And made the wayside blossom shiver.
September's heart was winter-steeled;
The frost lay white upon the field,
Day after day; the northern blast
Withered the bracken as it passed.
The frost lay white upon the field,
Day after day; the northern blast
Withered the bracken as it passed.
“The time of snow!” we said. Not yet!
Flushed with suffusions of regret,
Out of the south October came,
Setting the forest's heart aflame.
Flushed with suffusions of regret,
Out of the south October came,
Setting the forest's heart aflame.
Summer returned with her, and still
She lingers with us: stream and hill
And wide fields waver like a dream
Through warm, soft mist and tender gleam.
She lingers with us: stream and hill
And wide fields waver like a dream
Through warm, soft mist and tender gleam.
Again the gentian dares unfold
Blue fringes closed against the cold;
Again, in mossy solitudes,
The glimmering aster lights the woods.
Blue fringes closed against the cold;
Again, in mossy solitudes,
The glimmering aster lights the woods.
One mass of sunshine glows the beech;
Great oaks, in scarlet drapery, reach
Across the crimson blackberry vine,
Toward purple ash and sombre pine.
Great oaks, in scarlet drapery, reach
Across the crimson blackberry vine,
Toward purple ash and sombre pine.
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The orange-tinted sassafras
With quaintest foliage strews the grass;
Witch-hazel shakes her gold curls out,
'Mid the red maple's flying rout.
With quaintest foliage strews the grass;
Witch-hazel shakes her gold curls out,
'Mid the red maple's flying rout.
Our forests, that so lately stood
Like any green familiar wood,
Aladdin's fabulous tale repeat;
The trees drop jewels at our feet.
Like any green familiar wood,
Aladdin's fabulous tale repeat;
The trees drop jewels at our feet.
With every day some splendor strange!
With every hour some subtle change!
Of our plain world how could we guess
Such miracles of loveliness?
With every hour some subtle change!
Of our plain world how could we guess
Such miracles of loveliness?
Ah, let the green Septembers go!
They promise more than they bestow;
But now the earth around us seems
Clad in the radiance of our dreams.
They promise more than they bestow;
But now the earth around us seems
Clad in the radiance of our dreams.
Omen of joy to thee and me,
Dear friend, may this rare season be!
Life has not had its perfect test;
Our latest years may be our best.
Dear friend, may this rare season be!
Life has not had its perfect test;
Our latest years may be our best.
Heaven's inmost warmth may wait us still.
What if, beyond time's autumn chill,
There bless us, ere we hence depart,
A glad October of the heart!
What if, beyond time's autumn chill,
There bless us, ere we hence depart,
A glad October of the heart!
| The poetical works of Lucy Larcom | |