Story Hour Readings: Seventh Year Part 23

AUTUMN ON THE FARM

BY JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

This is a poetic description of an old-fas.h.i.+oned autumn scene on a England farm. The huskers in the field merely jerked the ear of corn from its stalk, leaving the husk on the ear. The husks were afterwards removed in the barn at a big husking bee or picnic, in which the neighbors took part. Read the poem for its pictures.

It was late in mild October, And the long autumnal rain Had left the summer harvest fields All green with gra.s.s again; The first sharp frosts had fallen, 5 Leaving all the woodlands gay With the hues of summer's rainbow Or the meadow flowers of May.

Through a thin, dry mist, that morning, The sun rose broad and red; 10 At first a rayless disk of fire, He brightened as he sped; Yet even his noontide glory Fell chastened and subdued On the cornfields and the orchards 15 And softly pictured wood.

And all that quiet afternoon, Slow sloping to the night, He wove with golden shuttle The haze with yellow light; 20

Slanting through the painted beeches, He glorified the hill; And beneath it pond and meadow Lay brighter, greener still.

And shouting boys in woodland haunts 5 Caught glimpses of that sky, Flecked by many-tinted leaves, And laughed, they knew not why; And schoolgirls, gay with aster flowers, Beside the meadow brooks, 10 Mingled the glow of autumn With the suns.h.i.+ne of sweet looks.

From spire and barn, looked westerly The patient weatherc.o.c.ks; But even the birches on the hill 15 Stood motionless as rocks.

No sound was in the woodlands Save the squirrel's dropping sh.e.l.l, And the yellow leaves among the boughs, Low rustling as they fell. 20

The summer grains were harvested; The stubble fields lay dry, Where June winds rolled, in light and shade, The pale-green waves of rye; But still on gentle hill slopes, 25 In valleys fringed with wood, Ungathered, bleaching in the sun, The heavy corn crop stood.

Bent low by autumn's wind and rain, Through husks that, dry and sere, Unfolded from their ripened charge, Shone out the yellow ear; Beneath, the turnip lay concealed 5 In many a verdant fold, And glistened in the slanting light The pumpkin's sphere of gold.

There wrought the busy harvesters; And many a creaking wain 10 Bore slowly to the long barn floor Its load of husk and grain; Till, broad and red as when he rose, The sun sank down at last, And like a merry guest's farewell, 15 The day in brightness pa.s.sed.

And lo! as through the western pines, On meadow, stream, and pond, Flamed the red radiance of a sky, Set all afire beyond, 20 Slowly o'er the eastern sea bluffs A milder glory shone, And the sunset and the moonrise Were mingled into one!

--_The Huskers._

1. What is Indian summer? Is this a description of an Indian summer day? Sketch the field described, or the sunset. Observe the color words in the last stanza.

2. What was happening in the woods on that October day? In the fields? Describe the scene in each.

GOLDENROD

BY ELAINE GOODALE EASTMAN

Most of our wild flowers that blossom in the fall are of brilliant colors. In September the fields and fence rows are a blaze of reds, yellows, buffs, and browns. Conspicuous among these is the stately yellow plume of the goldenrod, strikingly described in the following poem. Read this selection slowly.

Every line adds to the picture--every word means one more idea. Try to sense the entire meaning of the author.

(Used by special permission of the author.)

When the wayside tangles blaze In the low September sun, When the flowers of summer days Droop and wither, one by one, Reaching up through bush and brier, 5 Sumptuous brow and heart of fire, Flaunting high its wind-rocked plume, Brave with wealth of native bloom-- Goldenrod!

When the meadow lately shorn, 10 Parched and languid, swoons with pain, When her lifeblood, night and morn, Shrinks in every throbbing vein, Round her fallen, tarnished urn Leaping watch fires brighter burn; 15 Royal arch o'er autumn's gate, Bending low with l.u.s.trous weight-- Goldenrod!

In the pasture's rude embrace, All o'errun with tangled vines, Where the thistle claims its place, And the straggling hedge confines, Bearing still the sweet impress 5 Of unfettered loveliness, In the field and by the wall, Binding, clasping, crowning all-- Goldenrod!

Nature lies disheveled, pale, 10 With her feverish lips apart; Day by day the pulses fail, Nearer to her bounding heart; Yet that slackened grasp doth hold Store of pure and genuine gold; 15 Quick thou comest, strong and free, Type of all the wealth to be-- Goldenrod!

1. Three of the stanzas definitely locate the goldenrod. Read the lines that tell where it grows.

2. Which stanza makes the most vivid picture for you? What descriptive words in the stanza help make this picture?

3. Read the second stanza aloud, and tell in your own words what you think each line means.

4. Find synonyms (words of similar meaning) for the following: sumptuous, unfettered, disheveled, l.u.s.trous. Subst.i.tute your synonym for each of these words and read the line aloud.

5. Make a pencil sketch of a goldenrod as you recall it. Color your sketch with crayon.

6. The goldenrod is sometimes called our national flower. Why do you think it is so called? What is your state flower?

THE PALISADES

BY JOHN MASEFIELD

(Used by permission of Dodd, Mead and Company, Publishers.)

On the west side of the Hudson River there is a cliff, or crag of rock, all carved into queer shapes. It stretches along the riverside for twenty or thirty miles, as far as Tarrytown, or further, to the broad part where the stream looks like a sea. The cliff rises up, as a rule very 5 boldly, to the height of several hundred feet. The top of it (the Jersey sh.o.r.e) appears regular. It is like a well-laid wall along the river, with trees and one or two white wooden houses, instead of broken gla.s.s, at the top. This wall appearance made the settlers call the crag the "Palisades." 10

Where the Palisades are the grandest is just as high up as Yonkers. Hereabouts they are very stately, for they are all marshaled along a river a mile or more broad, which runs in a straight line past them, with a great tide. If you take a boat and row across to the Palisades their beauty 15 makes you s.h.i.+ver. In the afternoon, when you are underneath them, the sun is shut away from you; and there you are, in the chill and the gloom, with the great cliff towering up and the pinnacles and tall trees catching the sunlight at the top. Then it is very still there. You will see no 20 one along that sh.o.r.e. A great eagle will go sailing out, or a hawk will drop and splash after a fish, but you will see no other living thing, except at the landing. There are schooners in the river, of course, but they keep to the New York sh.o.r.e to avoid being becalmed.

You can lie there in your boat, in the slack water near the crag foot, and hear nothing but the wind, the suck of the water, or the tinkle of a sc.r.a.p of stone falling from the cliff face. It is like being in the wilds, in one of the desolate places, to lie there in a boat watching the eagles. 5

--_A Tarpaulin Muster._

1. Put yourself in the author's place and try to visualize this scene as he viewed it. Tell what you see. From what position are you looking?

ON THE GRa.s.sHOPPER AND CRICKET

BY JOHN KEATS

The poetry of earth is never dead: When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead; That is the gra.s.shopper's--he takes the lead 5 In summer luxury--he has never done With his delights, for when tired out with fun, He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.

The poetry of earth is ceasing never: On a lone winter evening, when the frost 10 Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills The cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever, And seems to one in drowsiness half lost, The gra.s.shopper's among the gra.s.sy hills.