Red October

THE QUIET DAYS

Red October, and the slow leaf sailing;
All the maples flaring scarlet splendor,
All the dogwoods glowing crimson glory,
All the oak-leaves bronze, the beech-leaves golden:

Blue, ah blue! the reaches of the river,
Blue the sky above the russet mountain,
Blue the creek among the tawny marshes,
Blue the tart wild-grape beside the hill-road:

At our feet the burnished chestnut shining;
Scent of autumn, and the brown leaves' rustle;
Cloudy clematis among the brambles,
Orange bittersweet along the wayside.

Days too-perfect, priceless for their passing,
Colored with the light of evanescence,
Fragrant with the breath of frailest beauty --
Days ineffable of red October!