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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.
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EstherJ:
Absolutely gorgeous, both the poem and the images it makes me recall.
Posted 09/16/2025 10:11 AM
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Darrell Arnold:
An excellent rhymed and metered description of the changing of the season. So many images I can relate to.
Posted 09/16/2025 08:58 AM
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Buckner14:
Thanks for finding this! The first stanzas alone are worth the search...
Posted 09/16/2010 09:23 AM
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