There roses rare scent all the air
And glorious make the June;
Yet more, more dear than these appear
The light of Autumn’s tender moon,
The light of Autumn’s moon.
The Summer’s sun, when day is done,
Sinks in the crimson west,
And stars arise in deep blue skies
Above his place of rest.
O, many a spell I know may dwell
Round Summer’s night and noon,
Yet dearer far than sun or star
The light of Autumn’s tender moon,
The light of Autumn’s moon.
Ah! Autumn skies and Autumn dyes
Hold me with potent spell ;
Blame not my tears o’er vanished years,
Their flow I cannot quell ;
For in those days ’neath moonlight rays
Friends joined in loving tune,
And mem’ry now recalls each brow
Illumed by Autumn’s tender moon,
Illumed by Autumn’s moon.
October.
(Recitation for a high-school pupil.)
O’er hill and field October’s glories fade ;
O’er hill and field the blackbirds southward fly ;
The brown leaves rustle down the forest glade,
Where naked branches make a fitful shade
And the last blooms of autumn withered lie.
The berries on the hedgerow ripen well,
Holly and cedar, burning-bush and brier ;
The partridge drums in some half-hidden dell,
Where all the ground is gemmed with leaves that fell,
Last storm, from the tall maple’s crown of fire.
