Thou comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain,
With banners, by great gales incessant fanned,
Brighter than brightest silks of Samarcand,
And stately oxen harnessed to thy wain!
Thou standest, like imperial Charlemagne,
Upon thy bridge of gold; thy royal hand
Outstretched with benedictions o'er the land,
Blessing the farms through all thy vast domain!
Thy shield is the red harvest moon, suspended
So long beneath the heaven's o'er-hanging eaves;
Thy steps are by the farmer's prayers attended;
Like flames upon an altar shine the sheaves;
And, following thee, in thy ovation splendid,
Thine almoner, the wind, scatters the golden leaves!
George,
ReplyDeleteYou have done a wonderful job of providing opening acts to the great poems of autumn. I look forward to the headliners of this show.
The Longfellow poem is a powerful reminder that he was all too casually dismissed by the academics a generation or two ago. As I recall, he is one of the few American poets who was able to actually earn a living off his poetry.