Crickets are making The merriest din, All the fields waking With shrill violin. Now all the swallows Debate when to go; In valleys and hollows The mists are like snow. Dahlias 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 come 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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER MUSIC: 17 by JAMES JOYCE EVENING IN A SUGAR ORCHARD by ROBERT FROST AFTER THE PAPAGO by JAMES GALVIN |