autumn

1 10 2006

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The colors change and that can be seen even in the world of black and white.
The golden rod is yellow, the leaves are turning brown, the apples in the orchard are falling to the ground.

These are the words that I remember to a poem. It turns out though, that those really aren’t the words to any poem that I can find anywhere. However, here are the real words to the poem that has been so often misquoted in our family:

The golden-rod is yellow;
The corn is turning brown;
The trees in apple orchards
With fruit are bearing down.

The gentian’s bluest fringes
Are curling in the sun;
In dusty pods the milkweed
Its hidden silk has spun.

The sedges flaunt their harvest,
In every meadow nook;
And asters by the brook-side
Make asters in the brook.

From dewey lanes at morning
The grapes’ sweet odors rise;
At noon the roads all flutter
With yellow butterflies.

By all these lovely tokens
September days are here,
With summer’s best of weather,
And autumn’s best of cheer.

September by Helen Hunt Jackson

::edit::

Look at picture for full size for good results.


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