"September" by Helen Hunt Jackson.

September

The goldenrod is yellow,
The corn is turning brown;
The trees in apple orchards
With fruit are bending down.

The gentian's bluest fringes
Are curing in the sun;
In dusty pods the milkweed
Its hidden silk has spun.

The sedges haunt their harvest,
In every meadow's nook;
And asters by the brookside
Make asters in the brook.

From dewy lanes at morning
The grapes' sweet odore rise;
At noon the roads all flutter
With yellow butterflies.

By all those lovely tokens
September days are here,
With summer's best of weather,
And autumn's best of cheer.

Helen Hunt Jackson

(October 18, 1830 - August 12, 1885)