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[gardengirl]

Deep Summer

written by J. Marshall Porter


Cicadas hum their wordless summer song
  From sunup until stars are shining through.
The dust hangs heavy on the weeds along
  Old cow-paths where webs sag with early dew.
Drought shriveled berries hang on red leafed briars
  Where crickets creak in lonely monotones.
Swallows tutor young from farmyard wires
  For coming flights to southern summer zones.


From tall trees over vine canopied glens
  The wood thrush's fluting , summer song is still.
Open shells lie in the nests that wrens
  Built on the old stone milkhouse windowsill.
The bullbats zoom and dart through sunset skies;
  Old warty willows' leaves turn silvery gray.
Blue asters stare with little golden eyes
  And watch the waning summer pass away.






Common Things

written by Leonard G Nattkemper



The things I prize of greatest worth
Are just the common things of earth;
The rain, the sun, the grass, the trees;
The flowers, the birds, the glorious breeze;
Clouds that pass, the stars that shine,
Mountains, valleys, ---all are mine!
Rivers broad, and open sea,
Are riches none can take from me.

[walton]

Lovely!

[walton]

And...isn't it time for this one?

                September

    The golden-rod is yellow;
        The corn is turning brown;
    The trees in apple orchards
        With fruit are bending down.

    The gentian's bluest fringes
        Are curling in the sun;
    In dusty pods the milkweed
        Its hidden silk has spun.

    The sedges flaunt their harvest,
        In every meadow nook;
    And asters by the brook-side
        Make asters in the brook,

    From dewy lanes at morning
        The grapes' sweet odors rise;
    At noon the roads all flutter
        With yellow butterflies.

    By all these lovely tokens
        September days are here,
    With summer's best of weather,
        And autumn's best of cheer.

    But none of all this beauty
        Which floods the earth and air
    Is unto me the secret
        Which makes September fair.

    'T is a thing which I remember;
        To name it thrills me yet:
    One day of one September
        I never can forget.


Helen Hunt Jackson (1830-1885)

[gardengirl]

Thank you, walton! So much to see and enjoy and sing about when September arrives! 

[glogdog]

Wonderful poems, gg and Walton.  Thank you!

[gardengirl]

Let Me Be a Gypsy

Let me be a gypsy
    On a bright October day,
When maple trees are burning
    And saffron poplars sway.
Let me be a rover
    When sweet gum is veiled with mauve,
When clouds puff up the mountain
    Like lazy parasols.
I want to feel the breath
    Of crisp autumn on my cheek
And catch the vibrant heartbeat
    Of earth beneath my feet.
One day in the woodland
    Is a treasure I can store---
Relive each golden moment
    When winter's wild winds roar.
Oh, to be a vagabond
    When forests flame with art;
October is my brother---
    We share a gypsy heart.


    ---Ollie James Robertson

[gardengirl]

October

Summer lingers though the woods
Are filled with winter's prophecy
In thinning leaves and russet tones
Of red and yellow tracery.

The morning boasts the songs of birds,
And night is routed gallantly.
But twilight hears the cricket's call
With rhythmic, shrill insistency.

Now from the woods new voices come:
The owl complaining to the moon,
And, echoing through the leafy vault,
The eerie laughter of the loon.

Thin frost upon the meadowland,
A trail of birds across the sky--
A keenness fills the vibrant air
That sends the dead leaves whirling by.


       written by Josephine Powell Beaty

[gardengirl]

 An Autumn Day of Rest

I love a Sunday morning still
When autumn mist is on the hill
And maple, oak, and apple tree
Praise God in regal finery.

I love to wander by the pond
Where fern and wild rose drop their frond,
To watch the drake who preens a feather
And plans the flight toward warmer weather.

I like to watch each morning's dawn,
A little sad that summer's gone
And glad of sadness that's made sweet
By one more season of life complete.

And when the evening sun has set
And afterglow still lingers yet,
I too will sing with grateful praise
For beauty blessing autumn's days.

written by Pollyanna Sedziol

[walton]

October

Summer lingers though the woods
Are filled with winter's prophecy
In thinning leaves and russet tones
Of red and yellow tracery.

The morning boasts the songs of birds,
And night is routed gallantly.
But twilight hears the cricket's call
With rhythmic, shrill insistency.

Now from the woods new voices come:
The owl complaining to the moon,
And, echoing through the leafy vault,
The eerie laughter of the loon.

Thin frost upon the meadowland,
A trail of birds across the sky--
A keenness fills the vibrant air
That sends the dead leaves whirling by.


       written by Josephine Powell Beaty

I love the line "A trail of birds across the sky". What a wonderful picture that makes in my mind!

[gardengirl]

My very favorite time of year....


When the Frost is on the Punkin

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodders in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin turkey-cock,
And the clackin of the guineys, and the cluckin of the hens,
And the roosters hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, its thens the times a feller is a-feelin at his best,
With the risin sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodders in the shock.

Theys something kindo harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summers over and the coolin fall is here
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin-birds and buzzin of the bees;
But the airs so appetizin; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur that no painter has the colorin to mock
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodders in the shock.

The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries kindo lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below the clover over-head!
O, it sets my hart a-clickin like the tickin of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodders in the shock!

Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps;
And your cider-makin s over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too! ...
I dont know how to tell it but ef sich a thing could be
As the Angels wantin boardin, and theyd call around on me?
Id want to commodate em all the whole-indurin flock
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodders in the shock!

[walton]

Oh, I've always loved this one!

[gardengirl]

It's that time of year again....

SOMETHING TOLD THE WILD GEESE by Rachel Field

Something told the wild geese
It was time to go.
Though the fields lay golden
Something whispered, snow.
Leaves were green and stirring,
Berries, luster-glossed.
But beneath warm feathers
Something cautioned, frost.
All the sagging orchards
Steamed with amber spice.
But each wild breast stiffened
At remembered ice.
Something told the wild geese
It was time to fly,
Summer sun was on their wings,
Winter in their cry.

[gardengirl]

Wishing
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
 


Do you wish the world were better?
Let me tell you what to do.
Set a watch upon your actions,
Keep them always straight and true.
Rid your mind of selfish motives,
Let your thoughts be clean and high.
You can make a little Eden
Of the sphere you occupy.

Do you wish the world were wiser?
Well, suppose you make a start,
By accumulating wisdom
In the scrapbook of your heart;
Do not waste one page on folly;
Live to learn, and learn to live.
If you want to give men knowledge
You must get it, ere you give.

Do you wish the world were happy?
Then remember day by day
Just to scatter seeds of kindness
As you pass along the way,
For the pleasures of the many
May be ofttimes traced to one.
As the hand that plants an acorn
Shelters armies from the sun.



Hello Forum friends!  Just a reminder if you have not already done so,  please remember to VOTE on Tuesday.  Exercise your right to speak up by casting your ballot. 

[gardengirl]

Be sure to scroll down as there are a lot of posts in this room today.   


America Is...

America is a country church,
A school house on the hill,
A freedom for our hearts and minds
To worship as we will;
A lovely, peaceful countryside,
A sky of fairest blue,
It's sunshine on a summer morn,
An autumn sunset, too.

America is the right to dream,
To build ,to plan, succeed;
The mirth and laughter of a child
Without a thought of greed;
It's stars at night, a silver moon,
A valley rich and green,
A challenge we must ever meet,
Unselfishness supreme.

America is a yesterday,
A triumph over hate,
A true compassion for the world,
An interest in their fate;
A humble farmhouse, neat and clean,
It's buildings, straight and tall;
A hope and courage to admire,
with quite enough for all.

It's future hopes, tomorrows dreams,
The finest way of life,
A something real for everyone
Without a thought of strife;
So rich in art, and high ideals,
It's shining liberty;
'Tis all of these and so much more
America is to me.

---Garnett Ann Schultz

[gardengirl]

The Noble and the Brave
                                                                                                                         
A Veteran's Day Tribute

When America had an urgent need,
These brave ones raised a hand;
No hesitation held them back;
They were proud to take a stand.

They left their friends and family;
They gave up normal life;
To serve their country and their God,
They plowed into the strife.

They fought for freedom and for peace
On strange and foreign shores;
Some lost new friends; some lost their lives
In long and brutal wars.

Other veterans answered a call
To support the ones who fought;
Their country had requirements for
The essential skills they brought.

We salute every one of them,
The noble and the brave,
The ones still with us here today,
And those who rest in a grave.

So here?s to our country?s heroes;
They?re a cut above the rest;
Let?s give the honor that is due
To our country?s very best.

By Joanna Fuchs