SEPTEMBER 



SEPTEMBER 



Now blooms the feath'ry goldenrod, 



The flower of Iowa's choice; 

 The katydid and cricket, too, 



Have lifted up their voice. 

 The works of Nature, careless-like. 



Are strewn in woods and field, 

 Spread out in a September sun, 



With every book unsealed. 



(Tacitus Hussey, in The River Bend) 



(19) 



