All things look strange in the pure golden aether ; 



"We walk through the gardens * . 



And as loud as birds sing the bloom-loving bees/* 



MRS. BROWNING. 



SEPTEMBER 



" Those bloom-burdened days ! " How sweet it is 



To walk the garden's Summer-memoried ways, 

 Leaf-golden now, where wind breathes in its kiss : 

 " Those blossom-burdened days ! " 



A mirage fair arises through the haze, 



Lost flower-faces, that in Summer's bliss 

 From bower and bed seemed in mine eyes to gaze. 



Queen roses red and white, how much I miss 



Your loveliness ; speaks Autumn sad wind-lays, 

 And taunts my mirage, mocks my grief with this : 

 " Those blossom-burdened days ! " 



(GARDEN MIRAGE.) 



" CPEECH is silvern, but silence is golden ! " This old 

 ^ saying is equally applicable to the two very pleasant 

 seasons of the year Spring and Autumn. First comes 

 Spring, that opens with the new light and the silver melodies 

 of the birds when first their songs rise so liquid clear, so joy- 

 fully sweet, awaking to blossom every bare branch on which 

 they sing; the opening eyes of silver-fringed daisies, where 

 white lambs frolic; the stream and river taking the reflections 

 of over-hanging bud-tipped branches of sentinel trees, and 

 clouds, silver-dressed, all the world bright with Spring's 

 silver. And then, after beauteous Summer, comes the 

 golden silence of hushed Autumn, when the world's melody 

 has ceased save for a few faithful birds ; and in keeping 

 with the golden silence, are the golden leaves and marvellous 



sunsets, and the golden moon of harvest. 



214 



