O hushed October morning mild

Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;

To-morrow’s wind if it be wild

Should waste them all.

The crows above the forest call;

To-morrow 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.