October's Bright Blue Weather

If my mother were living, she would be 95 years old. She attended school in a day when much emphasis was placed on memorization of poetry and recitations. All through my childhood I remember my mother reciting poems she had learned as a young girl. Frequently an event or a word would trigger her memory of a few lines of poetry; but as often as not she would be able to recite the poems in their entirety.

October never comes 'round that I don't reflect on a few lines of a poem she would often recite on beautiful days in October. Sunday was such a day; and gradually the first verse of Helen Hunt Jackson's poem that I had heard my mother recite to me countless times came trickling into my thoughts. I cannot recite the entire poem as my mother could, but I do have it written down and would like to share it with you.

October's Bright Blue Weather

O suns and skies and clouds of June,

And flowers of June together,

Ye cannot rival for one hour

October's bright blue weather.

When loud the humble bee makes haste,

Belated, thriftless vagrant,

And Golden Rod is dying fast,

And lanes with grapes are fragrant;

When Gentians roll their fringes tights,

To save them for the morning,

And chestnuts fall from satin burrs

Without a sound of warning;

When on the ground red apples lie

In piles like jewels shining,

And redder still on old stone walls

Are leaves of woodbine twining;

When all the lovely wayside things

Their white-winged seeds are sowing,

And in the fields, still green and fair,

Late aftermaths are growing;

When springs run low, and on the brooks,

In idle golden freighting,

Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush

Of woods, for winter waiting;

When comrades seek sweet country haunts,

By twos and twos together,

and count like misers, hour by hour,

October's bright blue weather.

O suns and skies and flowers of June,

count all your boasts together,

Love loveth best of all the year

October's bright blue weather.