TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // A Vagabond Song. by Bliss Carman (William) — unbolt me

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 […]

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // A Vagabond Song. by Bliss Carman (William) — unbolt me

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.

by BLISS CARMAN (WILLIAM) (1861-1929)
Public Domain Poetry