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The Opal Month
by
Virna Sheard


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Now cometh October - a nut-brown maid,
Who in robes of crimson and gold arrayed
Hath taken the king's highway!
On the world she smiles - but to me it seems
Her eyes are misty with mid-summer dreams,
Or memories of the May.

Opals agleam in the dusk of her hair
Flash their hearts of fire and colours rare
As she dances gaily by -
Yet she sighs for each empty swinging nest,
And she tenderly holds against her breast
A belated butterfly.

The crickets sing no more to the stars -
The spiders no more put up silver bars
To entangle silken wings;
But the quail pipes low in the rusted corn,
And here and there - both at night and at morn -
A lonely robin still sings.

A spice-laden breeze of the south is blent
With perfumed winds from the Orient
And they weave o'er her a spell,
For nun-like she goeth now, still and sweet -
And while mists like incense curl at her feet,
She lingers her beads to tell.


This poem is in the public domain.

 

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Virna Sheard (1862 - 1943) was a Canadian poet and novelist. She often used nature as a theme for her work.

 

 

 


Post New Comment:
Dorothy WildhagenD:
Absolutely lovely to think all of that was inspired by a misty opal.
Posted 11/25/2018 12:23 AM
wordartdjc:
So nice to give a voice to the poets of the past. This is a very lovely rhyming poem and well accomplished for our pleasure now.
Posted 10/19/2018 08:23 AM
cork:
A masterpiece of equilibrium and wordcraft.
Posted 10/19/2018 08:22 AM
Larry Schug:
I'm sure there is a name for this rhyme scheme (though I don't know it) which works so well in this poem. Good choice, Jayne.
Posted 10/19/2018 08:02 AM


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