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.