SEPTEMBER.
SEPTEMBER waves his golden-rod
Along the lanes and hollows,
And saunters round the sunny fields,
A-playing with the swallows.
The corn has listened for his step;
The maples blush to greet him;
And gay, coquetting sumac dons
Her velvet cloak to meet him.
Come to the hearth, O merry prince!
With flaming knot and ember;
For all your tricks of frosty eves,
We love your ways, September!
Ellen Mackay Hutchinson