Robert Frost's poem October

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

A fine poem on Autumn by John Clare: "the ground parched and cracked is like overbaked bread...and the rivers we're eyeing burn to gold as they run"

Richard Burton recites John Clare's celebration of Autumn. Best to watch this video on full screen, as the lyrics are too small to be read on the smaller screen.

Ben Whishaw's recital of Keats' To Autumn. The best recital of this poem ever!