A poem for autumn, A Vagabond’s Song by Bliss Carman 1861-1929



A celebrated poet of Canada, Bliss Carman died in New Canaan, Connecticut.
He is honored in his native New Brunswick. A descendent of Ralph Waldo Emerson
on his mother's side, he attended Harvard and so would have felt fall 
air and seen fall sunsets in this area.
A Vagabond's Song 

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.
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