CLOSED GENTIAN. 



fterbloom of Autumn's riper days, 

 Worn like a precious sapphire on her 



breast, 



Last of her nurslings, last and loved the best ; 

 What joy, along the tangled, woodside ways, 

 To catch a glimpse of that bright robe of thine, 

 Whose azure hue out-azures summer skies, 

 More deeply tinted than the deep fringed eyes 



Of thy fair sister, with their glance divine. 

 But, pretty Puritan, why so demure? 

 What potent seal is laid on lip and lid, 

 ,, Baffling the vagrant fly, the wooing bee? 

 v-jO bud that never blooms, recluse and pure, 

 What secret in thy folded heart is hid, 

 Veiling thy gentle life in mystery ? 

 OCTOBER. 



