Poetry Sunday: Late September by Amy Lowell

This poem by Amy Lowell was written more than a hundred years ago and yet it still seems fresh and fitting for this "late September."

Late September

by Amy Lowell

Tang of fruitage in the air;
Red boughs bursting everywhere;
Shimmering of seeded grass;
Hooded gentians all a'mass.
Warmth of earth, and cloudless wind
Tearing off the husky rind,
Blowing feathered seeds to fall
By the sun-baked, sheltering wall.
Beech trees in a golden haze;
Hardy sumachs all ablaze,
Glowing through the silver birches.
How that pine tree shouts and lurches!
From the sunny door-jamb high,
Swings the shell of a butterfly.
Scrape of insect violins
Through the stubble shrilly dins.
Every blade's a minaret
Where a small muezzin's set,
Loudly calling us to pray
At the miracle of day.
Then the purple-lidded night
Westering comes, her footsteps light
Guided by the radiant boon
Of a sickle-shaped new moon.


  1. It captures the season very well. The Islamic imagery is interesting. I wonder how that would go over today?

  2. Reading this poem reminds me of how many great words there are in the English language...and how few we end up using in real life. It's a little sad. But the poem is beautiful.

  3. What imagery in those words - for instance "the scrape of insect violins". It does capture fall well.

  4. This poem, like all good poems, is fresh and true in its imagery and its impact.


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