Friday, September 19, 2008

Poetry Friday


The Writer was feeling "September-ish" this morning. The nights are cool and the days are in the mid-70s. Black-eyed Susans flourish along the roadsides. The light is golden because the sun is slanting a different way now. Because everything seems yellow, the Writer planted yellow mums around our mailbox. (I helped.)

She chose a poem by Helen Hunt Jackson (1830-1885), a writer who was friends with Emily Dickinson. Jackson is best known for a novel, Ramona, about the plight of the Native Americans. She hoped her book would be as successful as Harriet Beecher Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin. Jackson also wrote lovely poetry. Here is one of her best:


"September"
by Helen Hunt Jackson

The goldenrod 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.

6 comments:

jama said...

The Writer chose a good poem for today, E. Please tell her I loved her book, Seeing Sky-Blue Pink, and that the day I spent at Hilltop Farm was one of the most perfect ones ever!

ellsworth said...

The Writer has read about your English wedding, which was a Perfect Day too! The Writer and Her Husband are coming up on #30, Valentine's Day.

TamraW said...

What a wonderful poem! It's so fitting for Maine September's as well . . .

Becky said...

I left you an award on my site!

ellsworth said...

Winchester! We got an award! From Becky of Becky's Book Reviews!

*Well, it's about time.*

He doesn't mean to be an ingrate--we're both thrilled!

ellsworth said...

Tamra:

I bet the weather in Maine is gorgeous this time of year--real fall. Ours is a ways off yet.