A Vagabond Song
by Bliss Carman (1861-1929)
There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood --
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.
The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry
Of bugles going by.
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.
There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.
* * *
Kelly Fineman at Writing and Ruminating is hosting today's Poetry Friday round-up with Keats's Ode to Autumn. As Kelly, and Robert Frost, write, "I believe that today, I'll take a walk and see what autumn has to offer. I sha'n't be gone long.—You come too." Take a walk over Writing and Ruminating and join Kelly for a promising Friday.
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