PALOS PARK 



AND last of all, in October, with the red 

 sun shining and the cool wind blow- 

 ing, go again to Palos Park. Gather 

 up a neighborhood party, old and young, good 

 and bad. Long will the memory of such a party 

 be in my heart. 



A farmer's man was to meet us with a hayrack, 

 and drive us about. What did meet us was a 

 god, a red and bronze son of Italy, tall, erect, 

 perfect featured, a very god of the harvest. And 

 he came in a chariot, decked with green and 

 scarlet and gold of leaves and berries and vines. 

 Seats were in the chariot fit for kings' thrones, so 

 gloriously were they bedecked. Like a gracious, 

 smiling god did he help us in and bear us away 

 through the splendor of autumn woods, to the 

 spring whose waters we quaffed, to hilltops 

 whence we looked westward over valleys that 

 were seas of gorgeous color, and through cool 

 roads along the winding creek. 

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