Robert Frost

(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963 / San Francisco)

October - Poem by Robert Frost

O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
Tomorrow 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 the were all,
Whose elaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—
For the grapes' sake along the all.

Topic(s) of this poem: autumn


Comments about October by Robert Frost

  • Rajnish Manga Rajnish Manga (10/10/2015 10:25:00 PM)

    Come October and the change in season is more than visible. The morning breeze has this message splashed all around. Great poem. To quote a few lines:
    Make the day seem to us less brief.
    Retard the sun with gentle mist; (Report) Reply

    2 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Kim Barney (10/10/2015 2:20:00 PM)

    I love Robert Frost (that's why I made him keeper of the gate in my poem POETRY HEAVEN) , but this version of the poem is full of errors. Sunprincess already corrected them almost three years ago [see her comment below], yet Poem Hunter has done nothing to fix them. A travesty.
    Come on, Poem Hunter, fix the mistakes already! (Report) Reply

  • Susan Williams Susan Williams (10/10/2015 1:06:00 PM)

    A great poem to read as I sit by my picture window looking out on the October trees- he was such a favored poet, favored with a searching mind, a sensitive heart, and boundless literary talent (Report) Reply

  • .., Rahman .., Henry .., Rahman .., Henry (10/10/2015 4:43:00 AM)

    For the grapes' sake, if the were all,
    Whose elaves already are burnt with frost,
    Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—
    For the grapes' sake along the all.

    YES, THIS IS ROBERT FROST; the one and the only in the world. (Report) Reply

  • Seema Jayaraman Seema Jayaraman (10/10/2015 2:12:00 AM)

    something so special about October and autumn, triggers that special ochre of creativity from the poets.. liked this poem. (Report) Reply

  • Mark Arvizu Mark Arvizu (3/31/2015 9:15:00 AM)

    To where do the crows call us? Where are the leaves going? (Report) Reply

  • Stephen W (7/5/2013 2:57:00 PM)

    Thanks to Sunprincess for formatting it correctly. (Report) Reply

  • * Sunprincess * (11/2/2012 11:45:00 PM)

    For me the poem reads better in this format..

    October
    October
    By Robert Frost 1874–1963 Robert Frost
    O hushed October morning mild,
    Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
    Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,
    Should waste them all.
    The crows above the forest call;
    Tomorrow 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. (Report) Reply

Read all 8 comments »



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Read poems about / on: october, lost, wind, sun, tree



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

Poem Edited: Tuesday, December 2, 2014


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