98 



SONNET OCTOBER. 



Ay, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath! 



When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf, 



And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, 

 And the year smiles as it draws near its death. 

 Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay 



In the gay woods and in the golden air, 



Like to a good old age released from care, 

 Journeying, in long serenity, away. 

 In such a bright, late quiet, would that I 



Might wear out life like thee, 'mid bowers and brooks, 



And dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks, 

 And music of kind voices ever nigh; 

 AndVhen my last sand twinkled in the glass, 

 Pass silently from men, as thou dost pass. 



-William Cullen Bryant. 



SONNET AUTUMN, 



Thou comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain, 



With banners, by'great gales incessant fanned, 

 Brighter than brightest silks of Samarcand, 



And stately oxen harnessed to thy wain! 



Thou standest, like imperial Charlemagne, 

 Upon thy bridge of gold; thy royal hand 

 Outstretched with benedictions o'er the land, 



Blessing the farms through all thy vast domain. 



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 an altar shine the sheaves; 



And following thee, in thy ovation splendid, 



Thine almoner, the wind, scatters the golden leaves! 



-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 



