Part of autumn it is, perhaps To find a beauty in being slow; Fears for the unripe grain are past, All our harvest is safe from the snow. And before snow flies there's another harvest -- Apple-green wisdom slowly mellowing, Smooth hard nuts for cracking and munching, Leaves to shed that are sapped and yellowing. These take a golden space of time To gather and handle, time unreckoned, Quaint old time with the latch-string out -- Not the modern locks of minute and second; Time to wonder, and measure the space From the fruit in your hand to the far horizon, Time to think until your forget The pumpkin-heap you had your eyes on; Time so wide it takes life in Across its worn old wooden sill -- A shining load of human straws. In time's great barn, hay-strewn and still Fronting the stubble fields, I pause, Turning my thoughts in the afternoon sun To catch a tinge of ripeness so. Part of autumn it is, perhaps To find a beauty in being slow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CONVERGENCE OF THE TWAIN; LINES ON LOSS OF THE TITANIC by THOMAS HARDY THE SONG OF THE SHIRT by THOMAS HOOD BORDER BALLAD [OR MARCH, OR SONG], FR. THE MONASTERY by WALTER SCOTT PSALM 19. COELI ENARRANT by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE WHEN TIME WAS YOUNG by SARITA HOLT BROWNLEE DA CAPO by HENRY CUYLER BUNNER |