OCTOBER
147
OCTOBER
Down, the faded leaves are drifting,
From grey branches overhead;
All summer birds have taken flight,
The grass is sere and dead.—
The brown earth tells us Summer's gone—
The frost lies white at early morn.
October
From grey branches overhead;
All summer birds have taken flight,
The grass is sere and dead.—
The brown earth tells us Summer's gone—
The frost lies white at early morn.
October
See! now is yon distant landscape
Clothed in warm and purple haze;
Redolent with ripen'd harvests
Of the Indian Summer days.
Bright—ye golden days—and glad,
Beautiful, yet erstwhile sad
October
Clothed in warm and purple haze;
Redolent with ripen'd harvests
Of the Indian Summer days.
Bright—ye golden days—and glad,
Beautiful, yet erstwhile sad
October
Now the corn, no longer waving.
Shocked, stands waiting for the bin;
Choice fruit and garden products
Soon will all be gathered in.
Golden pumpkins, piled up high,—
Indicative of lucious pie!
October!
Shocked, stands waiting for the bin;
Choice fruit and garden products
Soon will all be gathered in.
Golden pumpkins, piled up high,—
Indicative of lucious pie!
October!
