In my Nature Notebook

September  by Helen Hunt Jackson

The 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. 



(with thanks to Aimee)