 | The harp and plow |  |
SEPTEMBER.
There's a note of sadness found
In the breeze;
As it sweeps the dwelling round;
And it goes with sighing sound
Through the trees.
In the breeze;
As it sweeps the dwelling round;
And it goes with sighing sound
Through the trees.
Round the corner of the lone
Cottage wall
Comes a hollow, mystic moan,
And the hearer says the tone
‘Sounds like Fall.’
Cottage wall
Comes a hollow, mystic moan,
And the hearer says the tone
‘Sounds like Fall.’
And the evenings have a chill
Frosty gleam;
White the mist at morning still
Climbing lazily the hill
From the stream.
Frosty gleam;
White the mist at morning still
Climbing lazily the hill
From the stream.
Now bends the lowering sky
To the plain;
Or damp the south winds fly,
And the rack goes drifting by,
Boding rain.
To the plain;
Or damp the south winds fly,
And the rack goes drifting by,
Boding rain.
63
Now there's gladness in our ways
As we go;
There's a pleasant smoky haze,
Such as Indian-summer days
Always show.
As we go;
There's a pleasant smoky haze,
Such as Indian-summer days
Always show.
Plenty follows in the train
Of the plough;
Lo! the stooks of yellow grain
Dotting o'er the harvest plain;
Lo! the bough.
Of the plough;
Lo! the stooks of yellow grain
Dotting o'er the harvest plain;
Lo! the bough.
Fruits are ripening in the rays
Of the sun;
And the ‘lap of earth’ displays
What in spring's engendering days
Was begun.
Of the sun;
And the ‘lap of earth’ displays
What in spring's engendering days
Was begun.
So September comes arrayed—
Plenteous dame!
But with all her cheer displayed,
There's a sombre little shade
On her name.
Plenteous dame!
But with all her cheer displayed,
There's a sombre little shade
On her name.
| The harp and plow | |