There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood,
Touch of manner, hint of mood,
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.

The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry,
Of bugles going by,
And my lonely spirit thrills,
To see the frosty asters like smoke upon the hills.

There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir,
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame,
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.

Bliss Carman



Filed under Nature, Poetry

2 responses to “October

  1. Susan and Nick

    Autumn is by far my favourite season, everything from the lamps going on earlier, to the misty sunrise. Lovely poem.


  2. Debbie in CA : )

    Sarah, I just finished reading The Hawk and the Dove …
    Thank you so much for recommending such a fine work of art and heart. Having had the joy of caring for a severely disabled son for nearly 16 years, I deeply connected with many of the passages of text (especially those of book three). I shall place this book on my shelf of “must reads” and let it rest as I absorb all that is swimming in my heart and mind.

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