Tuesday, October 20, 2015

A Vagabond Song

Oh, what a beautiful poem this is!  I have loved this poem,  by Bliss Carman,  for many years.


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
   gipsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond
    by name.
~ Bliss Carman

The "scarlet of the maples" is particularly beautiful this year.  The red trees grab our attention every time.  And the "frosty asters" do look like lavender-blue smoke.

In New England we are blessed to see this glorious display of color every year.  We never tire of it or take it for granted.  And speaking for Mr. T and myself, the beautiful colors and the blue-sky days call us to explore the countryside round about us once again. 

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