Skip to main content

Poetry Sunday: October

And so we have arrived at October, and this week we began to be able to feel that autumn had actually begun. Our days were mild and pleasant and our nighttime temperatures got as low as the high 50s. 

 My husband remarked about how good it feels to get up early in the morning when it is cool. Now, I'm no early morning person myself and yet I know what he means. It is refreshing to walk outside on a "hushed October morning mild" and feel the brisk air and hear the calls of the crows as they gather in the woods near our house.

 Robert Frost has caught that feeling with his poem and he seems to be wishing here that time will slow before winter comes as he urges his readers to appreciate each moment, each single leaf that falls, the early morning mists that "enchant the land with amethyst." It will be a while before the leaves here "are burnt with frost" but we should not waste any of the beautiful days that October brings us.

 October

 by Robert Frost

 O hushed October morning mild
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild
Should waste them all 
The crows above the forest call;
Tomorrow they may form and go
O hushed October morning mild
Begin the hours of this day slow
Make the day seem to us less brief
Hearts not averse to being beguiled
Beguile us in the way you know;
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away;
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst
Slow, slow!
For the grapes' sake, if they were all
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost -
For the grapes' sake along the wall

Labels:

Comments

  1. CarmenOctober 2, 2016 at 2:06 PM

    "Make the day seem to us less brief
    Hearts not averse to being beguiled
    Beguile us in the way you know..."

    I like it! :-)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dorothy BordersOctober 2, 2016 at 4:56 PM

      Wouldn't we all like to stretch out these marvelous mild days?

      Delete
  2. Judy KruegerOctober 2, 2016 at 4:48 PM

    Yes, I appreciate the sentiment here.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dorothy BordersOctober 2, 2016 at 4:58 PM

      I've read analyses of the poem that say that Frost was likening the days of autumn to the autumn of our lives and asking that they be made "less brief" and I can see that.

      Delete
  3. AlanaOctober 3, 2016 at 5:53 PM

    How I love Robert Frost. I'm not a big poetry person but he has always spoken to me - from the time I was a teenager and discovered him.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dorothy BordersOctober 3, 2016 at 10:15 PM

      I am a big fan of Frost, too. He was actually sort of my "gateway drug" when it comes to poetry, and I love him still.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...
19 comments
Read more

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters!  Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...
6 comments
Read more

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...
24 comments
Read more