"The Lord is good to all, and His tender mercies are over all His works.
All Your works shall praise You, O Lord."
(Psalm 145:9-10)
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 of 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.
"September"
Helen Hunt Jackson
(1830-1885)
American writer and poetess
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