It's September

It's September and the orchards are afire with red and gold
The nights with dew are heavy and the morning's sharp with cold
Now the garden's at its gayest with the salvia blazing red
And the good old-fashioned asters laughing at us from their bed
Once again in shoes and stockings are the children's little feet
And the dog now does his snoozing on the bright side of the street

It's September and the cornstalks are as high as they will go
And the red cheeks of the apples everywhere begin to show
Now the supper's scarcely over ere the darkness settles down
And the moon looms big and yellow at the edges of the town
Oh, it's good to see the children when their little prayers are said
Duck beneath the patchwork covers when they tumble into bed

It's September and a calmness and a sweetness seem to fall
Over everything that's living just as though it hears the call
Of Old Winter trudging slowly with his pack of ice and snow
In the distance over yonder and it somehow seems as though
Every tiny little blossom wants to look its very best
When the frost shall bite its petals and it droops away to rest

It's September! It's the fullness and the ripeness of the year
All the work of earth is finished or the final tasks are near
But there is no doleful wailing - every living thing that grows
For the end that is approaching wears the finest garb it knows
And I pray that I may proudly hold my head up high and smile
When I come to my September in the golden afterwhile

-Edward Albert Guest-