Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, INDIAN SUMMER, by EDNA DEAN PROCTOR


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

INDIAN SUMMER, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Tis indian summer's richest, latest day
Last Line: O saddest indian summer! Fare thee well!
Alternate Author Name(s): Dean
Subject(s): Indian Summer; New Hampshire


'TIS Indian Summer's richest, latest day;
A soft mist veils the sky's enchanting blue;
And, to the wind's caress, the maples sway,
And bronzed oaks murmur, as they lightly strew
Upon the ground beneath, their gorgeous leaves,
All russet-green and ruby-red and gold,
So bright, my heart, sad as the south wind, grieves
To see their glories sinking in the mould!
And every gay and gladsome thing seems taking
A lingering leave of grove and field and sky;
Bluebird and robin, lawn and plot forsaking,
In croft and orchard sweet lament are making
For roses dead and loveless winter nigh.
The bees are hovering o'er the lonely flowers,
October's gift, despite its chilling showers —
Brave asters that have lived through frosty eves,
And still with faintest purple tint their leaves
Amid the mountain fern that yet retains
Its fragrant breath through all the autumnal rains,
And meek immortelles that, till snows appear,
Will mourn the buried splendors of the year;
While squirrels haste with nuts and acorns brown
That every waft above the wood brings down,
And — waif of June — a golden butterfly,
The last, the loveliest, is flitting by.
So calm! so fair! yet, with to-morrow's morn,
Wild winds will blow till all the groves are shorn,
And soft mists vanish, and the mountains rise
Cold and severe in melancholy skies.
Now fades the sun from hill and stream and dell —
O saddest Indian Summer! fare thee well!





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