Penny's Top 20 / September 2019

Penny's Top 20
The most-visited poems on  The Penny Blog in September 2019:

  1.  The Dwarf, Wallace Stevens
  2.  Esthetique du Mal, Wallace Stevens

  3.  7/16/69, George J. Dance

  4.  2 poems on summer's end, Emily Dickinson
  5.  Rich Days, W.H. Davies
  6.  Composed upon Westminster Bridge, William Wordsworth
  7.  A Song for September, Thomas William Parsons
  8.  September, Lucy Maud Montgomery
  9.  Rondel for September, Karle Wilson Baker
10.  The Day is a Poem, Robinson Jeffers

11.  September in the Laurentian Hills, William Wilfred Campbell
12.  Once Like a Light, AE Reiff
13.  On an Apple-Ripe September Morning, Patrick Kavanagh
14.  Autumn Rain, Pearl Andelson Sherry
15.  Last Week in October, Thomas Hardy
16.  The Motive for Metaphor, Wallace Stevens
17.  A Summer's Night, Paul Laurence Dunbar
18.  As imperceptibly as Grief, Emily Dickinson
19.  The Poplars, Bernard Freeman Trotter
20.  Autumn, T.E. Hulme

Source: Blogger, "Stats"

September in the Laurentian Hills / William Wilfred Campbell

September in the Laurentian Hills 

Already Winter in his sombre round,
     Before his time, hath touched these hills austere
With lonely flame. Last night, without a sound,
     The ghostly frost walked out by wood and mere.
And now the sumach curls his frond of fire,
     The aspen-tree reluctant drops his gold,
And down the gullies the North's wild vibrant lyre
     Rouses the bitter armies of the cold.

O'er this short afternoon the night draws down,
     With ominous chill, across these regions bleak;
Wind-beaten gold, the sunset fades around
     The purple loneliness of crag and peak,
Leaving the world an iron house wherein
Nor love nor life nor hope hath ever been.

~~

William Wilfred Campbell (1860-1918), 1895

from Beyond the Hills of Dream, 1899

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

William Wilfred Campbell biography

"September in the Laurentian Hills" read for LibriVox. Courtesy Books: Three.

Autumn Rain / Pearl Andelson Sherry

from From a Bay-window

Autumn Rain

My world is a pane of glass. These only
Of the shadowy without are mine:
They that pass;
The gray birds fluttering by;
The cloud that sometimes sails
Over the chimney-bitten sky,
When all else fails.

To eyes hollow
With the gray distress
The passing swallow
Is all but a caress.

~~
Pearl Andelson Sherry (1899-1966)
from Poetry, December 1921

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

Pearl Andelson Sherry biography

Rich Days / W.H. Davies

Rich Days

Welcome to you rich Autumn days,
Ere comes the cold, leaf-picking wind;
When golden stocks are seen in fields,
All standing arm-in-arm entwined;
And gallons of sweet cider seen
On trees in apples red and green.

With mellow pears that cheat our teeth,
Which melt that tongues may suck them in;
With blue-black damsons, yellow plums,
Now sweet and soft from stone to skin;
And woodnuts rich, to make us go
Into the loneliest lanes we know.

~~
W.H. Davies (1871-1940)
from The Bird of Paradise, and other poems, 1914

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

W.H. Davies biography

2 poems on summer's end / Emily Dickinson

[1536]

There comes a warning like a spy
A shorter breath of Day
A stealing that is not a stealth
And Summers are away –


[1572]

We wear our sober Dresses when we die,
But Summer, frilled as for a Holiday
Adjourns her sigh  –

~~

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

"We wear our sober Dresses when we Die" courtesy Audiobook Passion.

Also read: As imperceptibly as Grief

Emily Dickinson biography

Rondel for September / Karle Wilson Baker

Rondel for September

You thought it was a falling leaf we heard:
I knew it was the Summer's gypsy feet;
A sound so reticent it scarcely stirred
The ear, so still a message to repeat, —
"I go, and lo, I make my going sweet."
What wonder you should miss so soft a word?
You thought it was a falling leaf we heard:
I knew it was the Summer's gypsy feet.

With slender torches for her service meet
The golden-rod is coming; softer slurred
Midsummer noises take a note replete
With hint of change; who told the mocking-bird?
I knew it was the Summer's gypsy feet —
You thought it was a falling leaf we heard.

~~
Karle Wilson Baker (1878-1960)
from Blue Smoke: A book of verses, 1919

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

Karle Wilson Baker biography

The Day is a Poem / Robinson Jeffers

The Day is a Poem

(September 19, 1939)

This morning Hitler spoke in Danzig, we heard his voice.
A man of genius: that is, of amazing
Ability, courage, devotion, cored on a sick child's soul,
Heard clearly through the dog wrath, a sick child
Wailing in Danzig, invoking destruction and wailing at it.
Here, the day was extremely hot: about noon
A south wind like a blast from hell's mouth spilled a slight rain
On the parched land, and at five a light earthquake
Danced the house, no harm done. Tonight I have been amusing myself
Watching the blood-red moon droop slowly
Into black sea through bursts of dry lightning and distant thunder.
Well, the day is a poem; but too much
Like one of Jeffers's, crusted with blood and barbaric omens,
Painful to excess, inhuman as a hawk's cry.

~~
Robinson Jeffers (1887-1962), 1941
from The Double Axe, and other poems, 1948 

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada]

"The Day is a Poem" read by Robinson Jeffers

Robinson Jeffers biography