The Poetry Corner

September.

By Madison Julius Cawein

The bubbled blue of morning-glory spires, Balloon-blown foam of moonflowers, and sweet snows Of clematis, through which September goes, Song-hearted, rich in realized desires, Are flanked by hotter hues: by tawny fires Of acrid marigolds, that light long rows Of lamps, and salvias, red as day's red close, That torches seem by which the Month attires Barbaric beauty; like some Asian queen, Towering imperial in her two-fold crown Of harvest and of vintage; all her form Majestic gold and purple: in her mien The might of motherhood; her baby brown, Abundance, high on one exultant arm.