September

As September wears down here's a poem my dad remembers learning in school. It was written by Helen Hunt Jackson who lived from 1830-1885. How wonderful that September hasn't changed in all that time. Enjoy reading a poem over a hundred years old this morning.

THE golden-rod is yellow;

The corn is turning brown;

The trees in apple orchards

With fruit are bearing 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 dewey 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.

Notice the last two couplets (or whatever they're called) change the tone of the poem. Many places on the internet they are left out completely. Doesn't it make you wonder what happened on that "One day of one September"?