" The garden * , * It should by no means imitate the wilful- 

 ness or the wildness of Nature, but should look like a 

 thing never seen except near the house*** 



WILLIAM MORRIS. 



OCTOBER 



O month of changeful moods, and mingled days ; 



Springtime and Summer seem to haunt the woods, 

 Where balmiest breeze a dulcet tune still plays. 

 O month of changeful moods ! 



The leaves wax bright as Summer flowers, while broods 

 O'er them the doom of change, though fair as May's, 

 A sunlight clear the land of silence floods. 



The morn is hung with Springtime's silver haze ; 

 Clear Summer sunlight steeps the golden roods 

 Of leaf-strewn land at noon-tide as we gaze. 

 O month of changeful moods ! 



/ "T~MD-DAY the floor of the woods seems literally strewn 

 -* with gold : large leaves and small, perfectly shaped, 

 unblighted, lie in abundance everywhere. Never were the 

 trees more golden with the many rich hues that are wonder- 

 fully harmonious. To walk in the peace-filled woods to- 

 day was to walk as in some fairyland ; filtering through 

 golden boughs fell shafts of sunlight upon the leaves be- 

 neath our feet. The exquisite scene conjured up many 

 fancies. It seemed as though weary Nature, sitting at her 

 loom, was tired of weaving with emerald thread, and, keep- 

 ing her glowing colours until the last, was now weaving 

 them as a lovely border for her finished leafy tapestry. 



Yet with one's eyes closed it might be Summer still, 

 where the lanes are sweet with sun-warmed fragrances. The 

 sun gleams in July majesty from a sky of clearest blue ; the 



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