Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Poetry Thursday

Continuing with the theme of fall...

September Midnights
by Sara Teasdale


Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer,
Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing,
Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,
Ceaseless, insistent.

The grasshopper's horn, and far-off, high in the maples,
The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence
Under a moon waning and worn, broken,
Tired with summer.

Let me remember you, voices of little insects,
Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with asters,
Let me remember, soon will the winter be on us,
Snow-hushed and heavy.

Over my soul murmur your mute benediction,
While I gaze, O fields that rest after harvest,
As those who part look long in the eyes they lean to,
Lest they forget them.

4 Comments:

Blogger Marcail said...

Another lovely echoing poem. Thanks.

9/14/2006 11:46 AM  
Anonymous January said...

I have not read much of Sara Teasdale's work. Thanks for sharing this poem.

9/14/2006 2:13 PM  
Blogger Shadowrite said...

You've chosen one of my very favorite poets. Sara Teasdale's poetry is so evocative. This is wonderful as well.

9/15/2006 8:10 AM  
Anonymous chiefbiscuit said...

That's beautiful - no wonder autumn is my favourite season. (Yes, even though i am enjoying spring right now ...!)

9/15/2006 4:00 PM  

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