A Tribute to Robert Frost
On the 90th Anniversary of October
December
O vague December strangely mild,
Thy leaves are restless, hanging on.
No winter wind has yet blown wild
With days so warm.
The birds fritter and greet each dawn;
No flights of fall have fain begun.
Alas, December’s warm and mild;
October’s frost has yet to come.
No artic blasts have snows unbound.
In clement weather we are beguiled,
By cants who can’t admit earth’s warm.
We drive to work at break of day;
By noon there’s plumes, our smoke abounds
from factories here and far away.
Regard the sun with foolish myths
We teeter on the precipice.
Wake, wake!
The days grow late so soon in fall.
Although glaciers carved our valley,
Their melt may drown us in the sea --
The days grow late so for us all.
© Dan Speers 2006
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October
By Robert Frost
1874-1963
O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
To-morrow's wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
To-morrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow,
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know;
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away;
Regard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes' sake, if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost--
For the grapes' sake along the wall.
--Complete Poems of Robert Frost, 1916