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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

AN AUTUMN GHOST-TRAIL, by                    
First Line: Along the roadside
Last Line: Beckoning as we passed.


Along the roadside,
Ghostly ladies dressed in droll costumes
Of fluffy golden-rod,
Walk beside golden-capped, sunflower gentlemen;
They pay little attention to the autoist who says,
"Hi there, going somewhere, hop in!"
But a shrug of their fluffy shoulder capes
And a toss of the yellow-caps,
And away they go
To dance with the corn-stalk ladies,
In a near-by field;
A rustle of pale golden corn leaves
And a scatter of fluff,
As the wind whirls them in a mad polka,
Or a slow-moving waltz;

Where an occasional dash of scarlet
Shows a drifting leaf, trees stand, showing
Delicate tracery of branches,
Against the glowing sunset;
Tall feathery grasses and downy milkweeds
Hold high carnival,
Opening their slender green pods,
Scattering to the winds of heaven, their treasures
Of seeds and pollen;

Alder bushes and a wild plum thicket
Show a bronzy green,
And elderberries with panicles of ripened fruit,
Send out a rich, warm incense;
Ghost-dreams of the heart keep step
With the ghost-ladies of the roadside,
As old-time memories flaunt their pale shadows
Through the secret by-ways of the mind;

A muted symphony of bird-notes
Falls upon the stillness;
The rustle of grasses where a cricket
Tunes his fiddle for a last swing-song;

Pale ghost ladies and cocky-capped
Sunflower gentlemen,
Pass us arm in arm,
Returning from their afternoon frolic,
And we wave a gay salute as we push our way
Through soft, warm dust, towards that plum thicket --
For we remember there were a few deeply purple plums
Beckoning as we passed.





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