An autumnal atmosphere
Dear Annie: Just wanted to share some of my favorite October poems. Hope your fall is filled with pumpkin everything and lots of cozy sweaters.
“October” by
Robert
Frost
O hushed morning mild,
Thy leaves have to the fall;
Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,
Should all.
The crows above forest call;
Tomorrow form and go.
O hushed morning mild,
Begin the this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from one far away.
Retard the gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes’ if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost –
For the grapes’ along the wall.
“Walden” by
David Thoreau
“In such a day, in September or October, Walden is a perfect forest mirror, set round with stones as precious to my eye as if fewer or rarer. Nothing so fair, so
October waste they them may
October hours leaf our sun ripened the of to at trees, with sake, sake
Henry pure, and at the same time so large, as a lake, perchance, lies on the surface of the earth. Sky water. It needs no fence. Nations come and go without defiling it. It is a mirror which no stone can crack, whose quicksilver will never wear off, whose gilding Nature continually repairs; no storms, no dust, can dim its surface ever fresh; -a mirror in which all impurity presented to it sinks, swept and dusted by the sun’s hazy brush – this the light dust-cloth – which retains no breath that is breathed on it, but sends its own to float as clouds high above its surface, and be reflected in its bosom still.
“A field of water betrays the spirit that is in the air. It is continually receiving new life and motion from above. It is intermediate in its nature between land and sky. On land only the grass and trees wave, but the water itself is rippled by the wind. I see where the breeze dashes across it by the streaks or flakes of light. It is remarkable that we can look down on its surface. We shall, perhaps, look down thus on the surface of air at length, and mark where a still subtler spirit sweeps over it.”
“October Woods, Wherein” by Ralph Waldo Emerson
October wherein
The boy’s comes to pass,
And nature squanders on the boy her pomp
And crowns him with a more than royal crown
And unimagined splendor waits his steps
The urchin walks thro tents of gold
Thro crimson chambers porphyry & pearl
Pavilion on pavilion garlanded
Incensed with lights shapes
And sounds, music Beyond the best conceit of pomp or power & & woods, dream starred airs &
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