Poetry Sunday: October by Paul Laurence Dunbar
October truly is one of my favorite months of the year and I think it must have been one of Paul Laurence Dunbar's as well because he wrote this lovely poem in honor of the month. Dunbar was an American poet and novelist of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. He was the son of parents who had been enslaved before the Civil War. He was a remarkable poet who overcame many obstacles to become the first African-American poet to gain national recognition. I hope you enjoy his description of this "Whole-hearted, happy, careless, free" month.
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
October is the treasurer of the year,
October is the treasurer of the year,
And all the months pay bounty to her store;
The fields and orchards still their tribute bear,
And fill her brimming coffers more and more.
But she, with youthful lavishness,
Spends all her wealth in gaudy dress,
And decks herself in garments bold
Of scarlet, purple, red, and gold.
She heedeth not how swift the hours fly,
But smiles and sings her happy life along;
She only sees above a shining sky;
She only hears the breezes' voice in song.
Her garments trail the woodlands through,
And gather pearls of early dew
That sparkle, till the roguish Sun
Creeps up and steals them every one.
But what cares she that jewels should be lost,
When all of Nature's bounteous wealth is hers?
Though princely fortunes may have been their cost,
Not one regret her calm demeanor stirs.
Whole-hearted, happy, careless, free,
She lives her life out joyously,
Nor cares when Frost stalks o'er her way
And turns her auburn locks to gray.
But she, with youthful lavishness,
Spends all her wealth in gaudy dress,
And decks herself in garments bold
Of scarlet, purple, red, and gold.
She heedeth not how swift the hours fly,
But smiles and sings her happy life along;
She only sees above a shining sky;
She only hears the breezes' voice in song.
Her garments trail the woodlands through,
And gather pearls of early dew
That sparkle, till the roguish Sun
Creeps up and steals them every one.
But what cares she that jewels should be lost,
When all of Nature's bounteous wealth is hers?
Though princely fortunes may have been their cost,
Not one regret her calm demeanor stirs.
Whole-hearted, happy, careless, free,
She lives her life out joyously,
Nor cares when Frost stalks o'er her way
And turns her auburn locks to gray.
I am taken with the last two lines. We do obsess with growing old don’t we?
ReplyDeleteIndeed. And yet it is definitely preferable to the alternative!
DeleteThis is such a joyous poem. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteYou are welcome. Happy Sunday!
DeleteWhat a fun view of October! He captures the month perfectly. :D
ReplyDeleteMy thoughts exactly.
DeleteWhat a beautiful poem! October is my favorite too.
ReplyDeleteAsh @ Essentially Ash
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October has a lot to recommend it and is likely a favorite with a lot of folks.
DeleteI like the thought that the other months pay a bounty to October's store. Interesting to think. October is often gorgeous here.
ReplyDeleteWe don't get autumn's brilliant colors here, but still it is one of the most pleasant months of our year.
DeleteLiving as I do in the Northeast United States, this poem rings with truth.
ReplyDeleteI think he definitely had such a place in mind when he was writing this poem.
DeleteI love seeing how October is personified in this poem. October becomes someone I like and respect and enjoy.
ReplyDeleteIt's lovely to think of it that way, isn't it?
Delete