

SEPTEMBER 



•Thy shield is the red harvest moon suspended 



So long beneath the heaven's o'erhanging eaves ; 

 Thy steps are by the farmer's prayers attended. 

 Like flames upon the altar shine the sheaves ; 

 And, following thee, in thy ovation splendid, 

 Thine almoner, the wind, scatters the golden leaves ! ' 



LONGFELLOW, Sonnet on Autumn. 



OCTOBER 



'The day becomes more solemn and serene 

 When noon is ended : there is a harmony 

 In autumn, a lustre in its sky, 

 Which through the summer is not heard and seen, 

 As if it could not be, as if it had not been.' 



Shelley, Hymn to Intellectual Beauty. 



