 | Poems of Paul Hamilton Hayne |  |
OCTOBER.
Afar from the city, its cark and care,—
Thank God! I am cosily seated here,
On this night of hale October,—
While the flames leap high on the roaring hearth,
And voices, the dearest to me on earth,
Ring out in the music of household mirth,
For the time is blithe October!
Thank God! I am cosily seated here,
On this night of hale October,—
While the flames leap high on the roaring hearth,
And voices, the dearest to me on earth,
Ring out in the music of household mirth,
For the time is blithe October!
There's something,—but what I can scarce divine,—
Perchance 'tis the breath like a potent wine,
Of the cordial, clear October,
Which makes, when the jovial month comes round,
The life-blood bloom, and the pulses bound,
And the soul spring forth like a monarch crown'd,—
God's grace on the brave October!
Perchance 'tis the breath like a potent wine,
Of the cordial, clear October,
Which makes, when the jovial month comes round,
The life-blood bloom, and the pulses bound,
And the soul spring forth like a monarch crown'd,—
God's grace on the brave October!
Come, sweetheart! open your choicest bin,
For who, I would marvel, could deem it sin,
On this night of keen October,
To quaff one health to his ruddy cheer,
On the golden edge of the waning year,
To his eyes so bright, and his cheeks so clear,
Our bluff “King Hal,”—October?
For who, I would marvel, could deem it sin,
On this night of keen October,
To quaff one health to his ruddy cheer,
On the golden edge of the waning year,
To his eyes so bright, and his cheeks so clear,
Our bluff “King Hal,”—October?
Away with Rhenish and light champagne!
'Tis not in these we must pledge the reign
Of the stout old lord,—October;
But in mighty stoups of the “mountain dew,”
With “beads” like tears in an eye of blue,
But tears of a laughter, sound and true,
As thine honest heart, October!
'Tis not in these we must pledge the reign
Of the stout old lord,—October;
But in mighty stoups of the “mountain dew,”
With “beads” like tears in an eye of blue,
But tears of a laughter, sound and true,
As thine honest heart, October!
He brought me love and he brought me health,
He brought me all but the curse of wealth,
This kindly and free October;
And forever and aye I will bless his name,
While his winds blow fresh, and his sunsets flame,
And the whole earth burns with his crimson fame,
This prince of the months,—October!
He brought me all but the curse of wealth,
This kindly and free October;
And forever and aye I will bless his name,
While his winds blow fresh, and his sunsets flame,
And the whole earth burns with his crimson fame,
This prince of the months,—October!
| Poems of Paul Hamilton Hayne | |