Wednesday, October 1, 2008

October Poem

Vagabond Song

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 a 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.

by Bliss Carmen

I love this poem. It is a beautiful way to welcome in the month of October, and all of the very autumn things in it. Enjoy!

1 comment:

Jody said...

I love that poem too. But lately I've been remembering:
When the aspen turns to yellow and the maple turns to red, then my thoughts begin aturning, ever turning in my head to a lovely Utah valley, hedged by mountains tall and grand. And my feet begin atwitching and awishing they could stand in the cool October sunshine, way up on those mountains high where the eagle is awheeling in the blue October sky.