OCTOBER
Sweet mother nature now has weary grown
And is preparing for her needed rest.—
Long since the song-birds have to southward flown,
And lonely is each long-deserted nest.
And is preparing for her needed rest.—
Long since the song-birds have to southward flown,
And lonely is each long-deserted nest.
The flowers, long since, have closed their lovely eyes
And gone away, where they are seen no more.—
The trees have taken on their parting dyes,
And slowly drop their leaves to nature's floor.—
And gone away, where they are seen no more.—
The trees have taken on their parting dyes,
And slowly drop their leaves to nature's floor.—
A lingering sadness clings within the air:
A dreamy haze, that wraps all things about;
Only the grass is lush, and green, and fair,
As when in May it first began to sprout.
A dreamy haze, that wraps all things about;
Only the grass is lush, and green, and fair,
As when in May it first began to sprout.
The wind moans sadly through the thinning trees
And round the chimney, making sad the heart,
A dash of chilly rain, that 'gins to freeze
Now pelts the house with hailstones, then departs.
And round the chimney, making sad the heart,
A dash of chilly rain, that 'gins to freeze
Now pelts the house with hailstones, then departs.
The little children, that erewhile did roam
With soft, bright eyes, and gaily, pattering feet,—
Like lambs are shut within each cozy home
And now no longer bless the silent street.—
With soft, bright eyes, and gaily, pattering feet,—
Like lambs are shut within each cozy home
And now no longer bless the silent street.—
Anon, against a rain-dashed window pane,
A little, childish, dimpled face looks out,
And longs, methinks, for summer days again,—
Dissatisfied with toys all strewn about.—
A little, childish, dimpled face looks out,
And longs, methinks, for summer days again,—
Dissatisfied with toys all strewn about.—
Sweet mother nature drives us all indoors,
And now no longer soothes with gentle touch
The tired feet, that wandered o'er her floors.—
We miss her gentle ministry, how much!
And now no longer soothes with gentle touch
The tired feet, that wandered o'er her floors.—
We miss her gentle ministry, how much!
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