Fragrant Quote for September 14th, 2012 from SPIRIT OF SEPTEMBER by By John Russell Hayes

Credit for Harvest Rest by George Cole

SPIRIT OF SEPTEMBER by By John Russell Hayes



O SPIRIT of September, I have seen
Thy wandering footsteps by the lonely rill
That winds and murmurs under willows green
Below yon high-browed hill;
And I have followed thee through orchards olden
And watched thy wistful face in silence pass
Where mellow apples round and ripe and golden
Lie thickly in the grass;—


Lie in the grass where once in pleasant drowse
Methought I saw thee in the dove-cote's shade
Weaving a wreath of asters for thy brows
In sweet and fragrant braid.
And by the woodland edge, 'mid moss and myrtle,
When thou wert dancing o'er the faery green,
With heaps of fern and flowers in thy kirtle,
Thee, Spirit, have I not seen?


Have I not seen thee in the azure morn
Glide noiseless as a phantom summer cloud
Where waved the tassels of the yellow corn
And vagrant crows called loud;
Or watched thee in the twilight pale and hazy
With drooping head roam far adown the stream
Whose wandering waters languorous and lazy
Fill our soft vale with dream ?—


Fill it with dream and mystery and charm
In rosy dawns and noons and slumbrous eves,
Where smile the acres of the ancient farm
With stacks and golden sheaves,
With rustic wealth of timothy and clover,
And meadows where the soft-eyed heifers graze,
And fields of thick-sown millet toppling over,
And slopes of tasseled maize;—


Of tasselled maize and fields where thistle-seeds
Float on light winds above the luscious sod,
Where pungent mint and ragweed fill the meads,
And wild-heart goldenrod;
And gardens lovelier for thy passing there,—
So stately seem the silken hollyhocks,
So sumptuous the lingering roses fair,
So deeply bright the phlox;—


So bright the phlox and every stately flower
The season brings;—but, ah, to think how soon
Thou'lt fade away as hour by golden hour
Rolls on toward Autumn's noon!
Too soon thou'lt fade,
O Spirit of September,
As fade the walnut's and the willow's leaves;
But thy deep charm, O how I shall remember
When Winter sighs and grieves!