OCTOBER 



OCTOBER 



She is coming ! She is coming ! 



Crowned with leaves of crimson dye, 

 With grape stains on her beauteous lips, 



And laughter in her eye ; 

 Dodging the fast falling nuts 



Jack Frost is scattering free, 

 While fire, unconsuming, rests 



On eveiy bush and tree; 

 With smoke-veiled face now smiling o 'er us, 

 Our dear October stands before us ! 



(Tacitus Hussey, in The River Bend) 



(T3) 



