Saturday, September 02, 2006



by: Helen Hunt Jackson (1830-1885)

      HE 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.


Anonymous said...

How I love those old poems, the ones people knew by heart a generation ago. Very nice photos to go with it, too! So, is that a dirt road? Or is it called gravel out there?

Les said...

Glad you enjoyed the poem and pictures. I was so surprised to find a poem after shooting the pics. What luck to find one that mentioned goldenrod, milkweed and corn!

Oh, and the road is actually a combination of dirt and gravel.