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September
by
Edward Bliss Reed


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Crickets are making
    The merriest din,
All the fields waking
    With shrill violin.
 
Now all the swallows
    Debate when to go;
In the valleys and hollows
    The mists are like snow.
 
Dahlia are glowing
    In purple and red
Where once were growing
    Pale roses instead.
 
Piled up leaves smoulder,
    All hazy the noon,
Nights have grown colder,
   The frost will some soon.
 
Early lamps burning, 
    So soon the night falls,
Leaves, crimson turning,
    Make bright the stone walls.
 
Summer recalling
    At turn of the year,
Fruit will be falling,
    September is here.
 

This poem is in the public domain.
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I've been able to find virtually no information on Edward Bliss Reed (1872 - 1940). He attended Yale and was Class Poet of the Class of 1894, assistant editor of the Yale Review at some point, and eventually became a professor there. He was a poetry scholar and historian who wrote several books, did many translations, and considered Keats and Shakespeare especially outstanding poets.


Post New Comment:
Buckner14:
Thanks for finding this! The first stanzas alone are worth the search...
Posted 09/16/2010 09:23 AM


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