Poems (Howard)/October

by Hattie Howard

For works with similar titles, see October.

October.

Oh, what can rival Nature's charms,
 O'er all the woodlands lying,
When "Autumn folds her jeweled arms
 Around the year," now dying!

With fresh surprise on every hand,
 But not one hue that's sober,
A nameless charm invests the land
 In radiant, rare October.

What splendor everywhere displayed
 In lavishness unsparing!
'Tis Nature's own "grand dress parade,"
 Her full regalia wearing.

Fair, blooming Spring, in robes of green,
 That once we deemed enchanting,
Grows pale when Autumn, gorgeous queen,
 Her royal robes are flaunting.

The loveliest tints that Nature hath
 Were blent and concentrated
Around one bright, sequestered path,
 Wherein I walked, elated.

The maples and the beeches tried
 To prove each other duller,
And lent to all the mountain side
 Luxuriance of color.

The sumacs, in their scarlet hoods,
 Stood proudly up, defying
The tallest monarch of the woods,
 All gorgeous, in their dying.

The ivy, clinging to the oak,
 Looked down, serenely blushing.
And though no sound the silence broke,
 I marked her hectic flushing.

The leaves, that rustled to my tread,
 Glanced up but to discover
Bright tints of gold, and brown, and red,
 In branches bending over.

Such beauties all a hand bespeak
 With heavenly skill acquainted;
The hand that gives the rose's cheek
 Its hue, divinely painted.

May wondrous Nature long retain
 The glories that enrobe her,
And chill November not disdain
 To emulate October.