A garden is man's report of earth at her best*** 



J. D. SEDDING. 



OCTOBER 



Leaves are falling, clouds are flying 



Fast across the dreary sky ; 

 Birds are homing, flowers fast dying, 



Sighs the north wind drearily. 

 Soon on empty boughs that shiver, 



Thick will lie the hoar-frost white, 

 Where but late green leaves did quiver, 



Joyous in the sunshine bright ! 



Autumntide is here again, 

 Fading leaf and falling rain, 

 Cloud-strewn sky and sodden plain ; 

 Flying wind moans far and wide : 

 " Autumntide, sad autumntide ! " 



Gone the sweetness of the roses, 



Kissed by sunlight, wooed by wind ; 

 Grey mist lifeless stem encloses, 



Glad-world ways with grief seem blind. 

 But beneath the earth are sleeping, 



Flowers to waken when the sun 

 Bids them no more dreams be keeping, 



Called to life by Spring begun ! 



Autumntide is here again, 

 Fading leaf and falling rain, 

 Cloud-strewn sky and sodden plain ; 

 Flying wind moans far and wide : 

 " Autumntide, sad autumntide ! " 



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