Poem For Saturday


"Autumn" by Bliss Carman first appear in The Atlantic in 1916. For a more contemporary take you can read Adam Roberts' Righteous Skeptic's Guide to Reading Poetry.

Now when the time of fruit and grain is come,
When apples hang above the orchard wall,
And from a tangle by the roadside stream
A scent of wild grapes fills the racy air,
Comes Autumn with her sun-burnt caravan,
Like a long gypsy train with trappings gay
And tattered colors of the Orient,
Moving slow-footed through the dreamy hills.
The woods of Wilton, at her coming, wear
Tints of Bokhara and of Samarcand;
The maples glow with their Pompeian red,
The hickories with burnt Etruscan gold;
And while the crickets fife along her march,
Behind her banners burns the crimson sun.

(Image by Mr. dale, via Laughing Squid)