OCTOBER
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Opaque
and dry glows the autumn sky with a blue that is
merged
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in
shining, |
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deep rich hue but a pallid blue that is veiled with
gray as for |
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lining. |
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in heart and mart there be need of art to keep a
gray world |
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from
repining. |
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For rose and gold cometh snow and cold and a leaden
sky in the |
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morning, |
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the huntsman’s pink is a lurid link the lonely
valleys adorning, |
5 |
| And
the feet are fleet the bright hearth to greet, with
the pack the |
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wet
ways scorning. |
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The leaf is here but it grows full sere and it steadily
mottles and |
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mellows, |
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the chestnuts loom through a golden gloom that is
lit by the |
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maple
yellows, |
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That nest is best that is hardily drest and secure
far beyond its |
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fellows. |
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The jewelled ash makes a flame and a flash the while
that its |
10 |
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leaves
are thinning, |
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| But
a night and a day and the winds shall have sway
and these |
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same
seared leaves sent spinning, |
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a rock and a shock and the winds shall mock at the
wealth |
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they
are wildly winning. |
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While
the leaves still cling may the heart still sing
though the trees |
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in the
storm be straining, |
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Their trunks showing black in the forest track heaped
high with the |
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frail
ferns’ raining, |
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| And
the song is strong while the tissued throng faint
not nor wither |
15 |
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in waning. |
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When they shrivel and shrink even gay hearts think
of the end that |
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is somewhere
in waiting, |
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the ash consumes with the sumach plumes and there
be no |
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birds
for mating, |
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And the wet ways met are the death ways set that
the wanton |
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winds
are creating. |
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