A September Morning in Nebraska / C.M. Barrow

A September Morning in Nebraska

The sun has not yet risen, but his golden glow,
    Lights up the misty portals of the far off east;
The wavering shadows o’er the prairies come and go,
    And all the eerie sounds of night have ceased.

Nature’s own songsters, from the cotton trees,
    Fill all the languorous air with melody.
The corn fields rustle in the gentle morning breeze,
    And from the coming dawn the night-mist flees.

Anon a golden disc appears to view,
    Afar, o’er shimmering seas of grass and corn —
Like diamonds shine the myriad drops of dew,
    Up flies the lark, another day is born.

~~
C.M. Barrow
from Discover Poetry 

On the Approach of Autumn / Amelia Opie

Sonnet: On the Approach of Autumn

Farewell gay Summer! now the changing wind
That Autumn brings commands thee to retreat;
It fades the roses which thy temples bind,
And the green sandals which adorn thy feet.

Now flies with thee the walk at eventide,
That favouring hour to rapt enthusiasts dear;
When most they love to seek the mountain side,
And mark the pomp of twilight hastening near.

Then fairy forms around the poet throng,
On every cloud a glowing charm he sees....
Sweet Evening, these delights to thee belong:....
But now, alas! comes Autumn’s chilling breeze,
And early Night, attendant on its sway,
Bears in her envious veil sweet Fancy’s hour away.

~~
Amelia Opie (1769-1853)
from The Warrior's Return, and other poems, 1808

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Amelia Opie biography

East Coker / T.S. Eliot (I)

                        I

In my beginning is my end. In succession
Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended,
Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place
Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass.
Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires,
Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth
Which is already flesh, fur and faeces,
Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and leaf.
Houses live and die: there is a time for building
And a time for living and for generation
And a time for the wind to break the loosened pane
And to shake the wainscot where the field-mouse trots
And to shake the tattered arras woven with a silent motto.

        In my beginning is my end. Now the light falls
Across the open field,, leaving the deep lane
Shuttered with branches, dark in the afternoon,
Where you lean against a bank while a van passes,
And the deep lane insists on the direction
Into the village, in the electric heat
Hypnotised. In a warm haze the sultry light
Is absorbed, not refracted, by grey stone.
The dahlias sleep in the empty silence.
Wait for the early owl.

                                           In that open field
If you do not come too close, if you do not come too close,
On a summer midnight, you can hear the music
Of the weak pipe and the little drum
And see them dancing around the bonfire
the association of man and woman
In daunsinge, signifying matrimonie˜
A dignified and commodious sacrament.
Two and two, necessarye coniunction,
Holding eche other by the hand or the arm
Whiche betokeneth concorde. Round and round the fire
Leaping through the flames, or joined in circles,
Rustically solemn or in rustic laughter
Lifting heavy feet in clumsy shoes,
Earth feet, loam feet, lifted in country mirth
Mirth of those long since under earth
Nourishing the corn. Keeping time,
Keeping the rhythm in their dancing
As in their living in the living seasons
The time of the seasons and the constellations
The time of milking and the time of harvest
The time of the coupling of man and woman
And that of beasts. Feet rising and falling.
Eating and drinking. Dung and death.

        Dawn points, and another day
Prepares for heat and silence. Out at sea the dawn wind
Wrinkles and slides. I am here
Or there, or elsewhere. In my beginning.

~~
T.S. Eliot (1888-1965)
from East Coker, 1940

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada]

 
T.S. Eliot biography

September: A pastoral poem / William Perfect

September: A pastoral poem

Shall sorrow dash gall on my strain,
While echo alarm'd in the dale,
Responds to compassionate pain
That flows for the partridge and quail;
Responds to the merciless gun,
If cruelty harbour a joy,
Then Doriland rise with the sun,
For privilege grants to destroy.

I sigh at the cruel decree,
My minstrelsy pity implores,
As well might the muse bid the sea
Forbear to contend with the shores:
'Tis done, and the covey must bleed,
The plume of the stubble must fall;
In silence I shrink at the deed,
For pity is deaf to my call.

Tho' nature seems prone to decay,
The coverts less russet appear;
Contracted the length of the day,
Announces the eve of the year:
September revolves with delight,
A coronet circles his head,
Emboss'd with fair blossoms of white
The hopes splendid incense has shed.

His mantle the vine leaves compose,
A hollyhock purples his hand,
Th' arbutus, the larkspur and rose
Disdain not their charms to expand:
Bloom lupines and sweet-scented peas,
The tamarisk modest in hue;
The bean clad in scarlet to please,
And aconite's prodigal blue.

His reign shall the cricket attend,
The green-coated herald of cold,
Does winter this messenger send,
His embassy drear to unfold.
But why peevish insect thus pine?
Has Fate then ordain'd thee to weep?
While querulous notes, ever thine,
Deny the refreshment of sleep.

And thou on the wings of dull sound,
Who humm'st the drear knell of the day,
O say on what circumstance bound,
Agility hastens thy way:
Why thus giant beetle to roam,
In ebony panoply dress'd?
By war art thou urg'd from thy home?
Or art thou by enemies press'd?

When ev'ning's brown shadows extend
To my bow'r, still crested with green,
Without invitation my friend
Will Celadon honour the scene.
Of Phoebus to catch the last gleam,
While friendship our numbers shall fill,
Those numbers respond from the stream
That steals from the foot of the hill.

Or when with her crimson the morn
Dispels the black dreams of the night;
Her pencil the day to adorn,
Depaints lawny scenes to the sight:
When hinds are arouz'd to their toil,
And nymphs o'er the eminence gain,
Where Cantium with many a smile,
Of Ceres receives the rude train.

O then let us in early career,
Th' industrious vulgar survey,
To mirth and to jocus give ear,
For jocus and mirth lead the day:
The plant interdicted no more,
With floscles of silver behold,
While farmers, enrich'd by its store,
Sing "Silver's the mother of gold."

Why need that the muse should essay,
Or hint to the generous breast,
That he who is happy to day,
With pity should eye the distress'd;
Ye planters this precept to learn,
See providence please to bestow,
Solicits that grateful return,
To feel for the anguish of woe.

And shall the remonstrance of need
The abject and wretched unseen,
To plenty unaided proceed,
Return with disconsolate mien;
Forbid it ye virtues, whose tears
Ere start at the plaints of distress,
Whose sympathy misery rears,
Whose arms are extended to bless.

But where now, Aonian nine,
Are your measures aetherial pour'd,
In humaniz'd cadence divine,
For whom is your melody stor'd?
The bells, o'er the mist-crested ground,
Delightfully usher a peal,
That Hymen has sanction'd the sound,
My heart is the muse that must feel.

This day to her Celadon's breast
The peerless Penelope gives,
September be ever confess'd
What honour thy empire receives.
Bless'd pair! for whom Hymen has wove
A wreath of unchangeable peace,
And supplicates blessings from Jove,
That time may affection increase.

Ye graces your beauties that lend,
Ye virtues that shed hallow'd fire,
Felicity beam on my friend,
The warmest, first lay of my lyre:
Fill, heaven, their measure of joys,
To bless their connubial solace,
Renown'd for his truth be their boys,
Their girls for her softness and grace.

~~
William Perfect (1737-1809)
from Sentimental Magazine, August 1774

William Perfect biography

4 autumn American Haiku / Jack Kerouac

Autumn Haiku

Cool sunny autumn day,
I’ll mow the lawn
one last time.


Autumn Wind

Bird bath thrashing
by itself —
Autumn wind.


Waiting Haiku

Waiting for the leaves
to fall —
There goes one!

Autumn Nite

Cloudy autumn nite
— cold water drips
in the sink. 

~~
Jack Kerouac (1922-1969)

[Poems are in the public domain in Canada]

Jack Kerouac biography

Silk Diamond / George Sulzbach

Silk Diamond

Silk diamond
September golden bullet
The leather horse
Rider
With bad news.

Bringer of news
Sealed in a scroll
Over the limit
Time sent
The dust devil.

Thirsty desperado
With a taste for murder
And blood
On his soul.

I will never cross the pass
By winter
The icy demon
Charms us all.

~~
George Sulzbach, 20--

[All rights reserved - used with permission]

George Sulzbach, Painting of the Lady. All rights reserved - used with permission.

George Sulzbach biography

September / Ella Wheeler Wilcox

September

My life's long radiant Summer halts at last
     And lo! beside my pathway I behold
Pursuing Autumn glide: nor frost nor cold
     Has heralded her presence; but a vast
Sweet calm that comes not till the year has passed
     Its fevered solstice, and a tinge of gold
Subdues the vivid coloring of bold
     And passion-hued emotions. I will cast
My August days behind me with my May,
     Nor strive to drag them into Autumn's place,
Nor swear I hope when I do but remember.
     Now violet and rose have had their day
I'll pluck the soberer asters with good grace
     And call September nothing but September.

~~
Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919)
from Poems of Sentiment, 1906

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Ella Wheeler Wilcox biography

To Tame the Kingdoms Let His Angels Run / AE Reiff

To Tame the Kingdoms Let His Angels Run

Lift up your eyes and look unto the hills,

God’s glory is declarèd from the heaven,

He warms the earth as though the living sun

That causes plants to grow and rivers run

From Him had sprung. The meadow and green tree

Lift up a branch and all in praise of Thee.

Man he created sovereign under heaven

To joy him in the light-renewing sun,

There in his veins the dancing rivers run,

But he’s as much a mine as he’s a tree

That lifts a branch and sings his praise of Thee

Who lit the dawn and raised the blooming hills.

There was an angel standing in the sun

Amid the solar flare where rivers run

Who sang, the heaven’s a plant, celestial tree

With garnished fruit that stems its praise of Thee.

When stars are trees, then galaxies are hills,

Where poets dream embodied still of heaven.

All through the night earth’s springs and rivers run

While orchards rest in fields, the apple tree

Outgrows from earth between us, me and thee.

And if clouds sink upon the summer hills,

Surround our infancy under the heaven,

Then as we grow clouds part, outshines the sun.

Is it man or heaven, the springing tree

Whose green boughs so transpire their love of thee?

All praise the growth that lies upon the hills.

Stand on your feet you men, look at the heaven,

Redemption near, he comes with light, the son

To tame the kingdoms let his angels run.

Heaven, earth, man, tree, praise the living God, thee,

Who wrought salvation, light and life upon the hills.

Rejoice you lands, he comes, the king of heaven

Whose glory so outshines the lowering sun

That spinning globe that round him ever runs

Will cease and root in his eternal tree.

~~

AE Reiff, 2021

[All rights reserved by the author - Used with permission]

AE Reiff biography

September's featured poem

 

The Penny Blog's featured poem for September 2021:

September Night, by George J. Dance

Around the campfire
smell of burning
leaves in
silence.
{...}

https://gdancesbetty.blogspot.com/2010/09/september-night-george-dance.html

Penny's Top 20 / August 2021

      

Penny's Top 20

The most-visited poems on  The Penny Blog in August 2021:

  1.  The World's Body, AE Reiff 

  2.  Esthetique du Mal, Wallace Stevens

  3.  The Sun Rising, John Donne

  4.  At the Gates of Dawn, George J. Dance

  5.  Ephemeris, Babette Deutsch
  6.  Late August, William Stanley Braithwaite
  7.  At Lord's, Francis Thompson

  8.  At the Ball Game, William Carlos Williams
  9.  The New Cricket-Ground, Edward Cracroft Lefroy
10.  August: A pastoral poem, William Perfect

11.  An August Midnight, Thomas Hardy
12.  On the Grasshopper and Cricket, John Keats
13.  A True Account of Talking to the Sun at Fire Island, Frank O'Hara
14.  An August Mood, Duncan Campbell Scott
15.  2 poems on summer's end, Emily Dickinson
16.  Penny's OS 2.0, George J. Dance
17.  God Smiles, Will Dockery

18.  The Man with the Blue Guitar, Wallace Stevens
19.  Poem with Rhythms, Wallace Stevens

20. September in the Laurentian Hills, William Wilfred Campbell

Source: Blogger, "Stats"