156
SEPTEMBER.
SEPTEMBER.
A calm sky full of clouds of golden mist
Gilding the distant mountains brown and bare;
Sweet Summer's lips pale Autumn's cheek have kissed,
And left the impress of their warm love there.
Gilding the distant mountains brown and bare;
Sweet Summer's lips pale Autumn's cheek have kissed,
And left the impress of their warm love there.
Sunsets of vivid gold and purple haze,
Stars that look on you through a mellow calm,
Odors of fruit and flowers, and woodland maze,
And west winds laden with the breath of balm.
Stars that look on you through a mellow calm,
Odors of fruit and flowers, and woodland maze,
And west winds laden with the breath of balm.
On fertile uplands, at the eventide,
The busy reaper piles the groaning wain;
And the old barn, whose broad doors stand so wide,
Filled to the ridge-pole is with hay and grain.
The busy reaper piles the groaning wain;
And the old barn, whose broad doors stand so wide,
Filled to the ridge-pole is with hay and grain.
The corn is ripening in the gracious sun,
The bursting husks display its gleaming gold;
And on the lowland, rye-stacks, sere and dun,
Like trusty sentinels stand plumed and bold.
The bursting husks display its gleaming gold;
And on the lowland, rye-stacks, sere and dun,
Like trusty sentinels stand plumed and bold.
The forest gleams with red and amber fires;
The beech hangs out its primrose-colored flags;
The sumach artist's pencil never tires
Of painting scarlet all the mountain crags.
The beech hangs out its primrose-colored flags;
The sumach artist's pencil never tires
Of painting scarlet all the mountain crags.
At twilight, when the winds are sinking down,
In chestnut woods you hear the sweet refrain
In chestnut woods you hear the sweet refrain
