SEPTEMBER - Leigh Hunt Poems


Poems » leigh hunt » september


The 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.

The sedges flaunt their harvest,
  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.

By all these lovely tokens
  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.

'T is a thing which I remember;
  To name it thrills me yet:
One day of one September
  I never can forget.