Find inspiring thoughts in these October poems to help you look forward to this month. October is the month in a season of beauty and harvest. The Poet's express
their thoughts on what this tenth month of the year means to them.
We hope you find the ones that encourage you to see the beauty that surrounds you during this season!
Days are gettin' shorter an' the air a keener snap;
Apples now are droppin' into Mother Nature's lap;
The mist at dusk is risin' over valley, marsh an' fen
An' it's just as plain as sunshine, winter's comin' on again.
The turkeys now are struttin' round the old farmhouse once more;
They are done with all their nestin', and their hatchin' days are o'er;
Now the farmer's cuttin' fodder for the silo towerin' high
An' he's frettin' an' complainin' 'cause the corn's a bit too dry.
But the air is mighty peaceful an' the scene is good to see,
An' there's somethin' in October that stirs deep inside o' me;
An' I just can't help believin' in a God above us, when
Everything is ripe for harvest and the frost is back again.
Joyous, sunny days, so bright and clear,
But, oh, how short a time they last!
For ere we dream their close is near,
Summer has joined the past:
While we rush on, nor dream that summer's done,
We're greeted. by the rays of autumnal sun.
Swiftly the days have glided by,
That have passed beyond recalling,
Withered and blighted the flowerets lie,
The autumn leaves are falling;
And over many a gorgeous Nature-painted scene,
October's gold and amber stream.
When The Leaves Are Turning Brown
Poet: Elizabeth Akers Allen
Never is my heart so gay
In the budding month of May,
Never does it beat a tune
Half so sweet in bloomy June,
Never knows such happiness
As on such a day as this,
When October dons her crown,
And the leaves are turning brown.
Breathe, sweet children, soft regrets
For the vanished violets;
Sing, young lovers, the delights
Of the golden summer nights;
Never in the sunnier hours
On my way such radiance showers
As from heaven falls softly down,
When the leaves are turning brown.
Braid your girdles, fresh and gay,
Children, in the bloom of May;
Twist your chaplets in young June,
Maidens, — they will fade full soon;
Twine ripe roses, July-red,
Lovers, for the dear one's head;
I will weave my richer crown
When the leaves are turning brown
Poet: Paul Laurence Dunbar
October is the treasurer of the year,
And all the months pay bounty to her store;
The fields and orchards still their tribute bear,
And fill her brimming coffers more and more.
But she, with youthful lavishness,
Spends all her wealth in gaudy dress,
And decks herself in garments bold
Of scarlet, purple, red, and gold.
She heedeth not how swift the hours fly,
But smiles and sings her happy life along;
She only sees above a shining sky;
She only hears the breezes' voice in song.
Her garments trail the woodlands through,
And gather pearls of early dew
That sparkle, till the roguish Sun
Creeps up and steals them every one.
But what cares she that jewels should be lost,
When all of Nature's bounteous wealth is hers?
Though princely fortunes may have been their cost,
Not one regret her calm demeanor stirs.
Whole-hearted, happy, careless, free,
She lives her life out joyously,
Nor cares when Frost stalks o'er her way
And turns her auburn locks to gray.