October mornings mild

If you put in the words "October," and "Robert Frost" in the search queue on this blog this poem would come up multiple times. As I've said several years (I'm sure), I've shared this before, but this is my go-to fall poem. I read it every October, and am reminded of a very much younger blustering me trying to recite this before my 11th grade English class.

Happy fall.

"October"

O hushed October morning mild,

Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;

Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,

Should waste them all.

The crows above the forest call;

Tomorrow 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.

Retard 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.

--Robert Frost