This poem has been running thru my head for the past 60 years or so. I learned it in school, but apparently didn't do a real good job. Every fall I want to recite it.
The goldenrod is yellow
the corn is turning brown
the trees in apple orchards
with fruit are bending down
The genthians[sp] bluist frengis
are curling in the sun
That's what I remember---- any help on this?
Is this it?
The goldenrod is yellow,
The corn is turning brown;
The trees in apple orchards
With fruit are bending down.
The gentian's bluest fringes
Are curing in the sun;
In dusty pods the milkweed
Its hidden silk has spun.
The sedges haunt their harvest,
In every meadow's nook;
And asters by the brookside
Make asters in the brook.
From dewy lanes at morning
The grapes' sweet odore rise;
At noon the roads all flutter
With yellow butterflies.
By all those lovely tokens
September days are here,
With summer's best of weather,
And autumn's best of cheer.
Helen Hunt Jackson
I once was looking for a poem by Helen Hunt Jackson ( using its title),
and I found myself inside a "Mad about you" site ...
as if actress Helen Hunt had written it ...
Quick definitions (Gentian)
noun: any of various plants of the family Gentianaceae especially the genera Gentiana and Gentianella and Gentianopsis
William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878)
To the Fringed Gentian.
THOU blossom bright with autumn dew,
And coloured with the heaven's own blue,
That openest when the quiet light
Succeeds the keen and frosty night.
Thou comest not when violets lean
O'er wandering brooks and springs unseen,
Or columbines, in purple dressed,
Nod o'er the ground-bird's hidden nest.
Thou waitest late and com'st alone,
When woods are bare and birds are flown,
And frosts and shortening days portend
The aged year is near his end.
Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye
Look through its fringes to the sky,
Blue—blue—as if that sky let fall
A flower from its cerulean wall.
I would that thus, when I shall see
The hour of death draw near to me,
Hope, blossoming within my heart,
May look to heaven as I depart.
I am58 years old and my mother has recited this poem to us, she is now 88, since I was a wee child! I even write it on my blackboard as part of my fall decoration! It is by Helen Hunt Jackson and called "September", as far as I know.
Here is what I remember:
The goldenrod is yellow,
The corn is turning brown,
The trees in apple orchard with fruit are bending down.
The gentians (blue wild flower) bluest fringes,
Are curling in the sun,
And the dusty pods of milkweed,
Their silken seed aspun.
There is more, if I find it in my anthology and poetry books I will send it to you! ENJOY
J. click on "flat view" and read Pam's post above.
I NEVER FORGOT WHEN I WAS YOUNG THAT MY PARENTS TOOK ME FOR RIDE TO BACK ROAD WHEN MY MOM SAW LOTS OF GOLDENROD YELLOW ON THE FIELD SHE ALWAYS STARTED HER SONG I SAW HER LIPS SONG ABOUT GOLDENROD YELLOW I WISH I CAN HEAR HER VOICE SORRY I CANT HEAR HER VOICE BECAUSE I AM DEAF BUT I CAN READ HER LIP WHAT SHE SAID BUT NOT ALL WHEN AGAIN GOING FOR RIDE SHE ALWAYS KEPT SING OH NO MOM AGAIN AGAIN SHE TRIED KEPT SING FRONT OF ME I AM INGRONE HER MY FATHER WAS LAUGHTED OF US SHE LIKE TEASED ME SHE LOVE GOLDENROD YELLOW NOW I WISH CAN HEAR HER SING I AM DISAPPOINTED SHE IS WONDERFUL MOTHER THANK GOD THAT I HAVE HER I ALWAYS LOVE AND PREICOUS OF MY MOTHER SHE IS NOW 88 YRS OLD I FOUND ABOUT GOLDENROD YELLOW BY WEB ON THE COMPUTER AND MADE PRINTED AND GAVE HER SHE WAS GLAD NOW I UNDERSTAND WHAT HER SONG OF POEM ABOUT GOLDENROD YELLOW I AM PROUD OF HER CUZ SHE LIKE NATURE WILD FLOWERS SAME I DO SMILEY CHRISTA
Chuck, I have a friend who also learned this poem in childhood and is seeking to remember the whole poem. He thinks the next line is "the gentian flowers are sweet." He can't get passed that. I have agreed to help him search for the rest. I found it once on the web and then lost the info. I remember that the author is a woman and that the poem appears in an Oxford anthology of children's poetry. If you find it, plese share. Thanks.
Brenda, click on 'flat view' and read Pam's post above.