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September

Rating: 3.2

1 The golden-rod is yellow;
2 The corn is turning brown;
3 The trees in apple orchards
4 With fruit are bending down.

5 The gentian's bluest fringes
6 Are curling in the sun;
7 In dusty pods the milkweed
8 Its hidden silk has spun.

9 The sedges flaunt their harvest,
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Jim Foster 06 August 2011

My mother Wilma Foster loved this poem and recited it every September even though she was blind the last ten years of her life. We read this poem at her funeral.

12 3 Reply
Cynthia Snow 15 September 2013

My mother's favorite poem also. She and my father got married in September. Sadly, it was also the month in which she died. So for me this poem is bittersweet.

7 4 Reply
Bev H Sawyer Jr 10 October 2006

This is an appealing poem!

6 4 Reply
Amar Agarwala 18 October 2016

What mesmeric verses... September comes to life and endows with immorality!

5 3 Reply
Ruth Ann 14 September 2020

4th grade 1948 Baltimore, Md. Each student was required to stand up by his or her desk and recite the poem of the week from memory. This is one of my favorites. Perhaps others with similarly remember an annual commemoration of WW I with the poignant words of " In Flanders Fields." I now suspect that some of my teachers may have lost loved ones in that and the subsequent great calamity, something that never, of course, touched my awareness at the time.

1 0 Reply
Doris Bush 12 September 2020

I don't understand the meaning of the 25th & 26th line

0 0 Reply
Kristen 18 October 2020

It relates back to line 23 and 24. She is remembering the thing that she is keeping a secret, and it (the secret) is the thing above all others mentioned that make September fair.

0 0 Reply
Michelle Rothwell 31 October 2019

Assigned to learn this poem 52 years ago in fourth grade, I'm pleased that my memory still holds the beautiful words of this poem and the sensations it brings up in me.

0 0 Reply
Zeke Normandin 14 September 2019

2nd grade...Blackstone Mass.....1946.....Miss Murphy..Lincoln School........this is the poem that haunts me still...I am now approaching 80 and as I fly fish a New England creek.......the rhyme echos in my ears.......The golden rod is yellow has found my nose and eyes.....but the sedges hatching.....still cause the speckled trout to turn into dinner....

1 0 Reply
Paresh Chakra 14 December 2018

September is a very gorgeous poem

0 0 Reply