"In October" Poem

By Mrs L. C. Whiton.

There are lingering south-winds softly blowing

That to billowy waving the ripe grain bear;

There are dark-winged butterflies languidly going

Floating through golden air;

There are mists like vapor of incense burning,

That are rolling away under skies that are fair;

There are brown-faced sun-flowers dreamily turning,

Shaking their yellow hair.

There are noisy bees that are tired of winging

That are holding a court in some wild rose's heart;

There are sudden thrills of the late sweet singing

Of birds that are loth to depart;

There are sunsets watching their own hot blushes

On the breast of the ocean burning away;

There are wind-swept pines in the infinite hushes

Whispering as they sway.

There are changing ferns in the shadows lying,

Where the undried dews in the noontides stay;

There are gorgeous-hued leaves where, rustling and sighing,

Quivering sunbeams play;

There are tangled vines in the hollows trailing;

There are short sweet days that will not delay;

There are nights that come with a moonlight veiling

And Autumn going away.