CHRYSANTHEMUMS. 



When the last red leaves are shining in the rich Octo- 

 ber sun, 

 When the twilight, early falling, melts in dreamy- 

 dusk away, 

 Ere the sweet cicada's chirping in the aftermath is 

 done. 

 Comes my favorite flower of autumn, to illume the 

 pensive day. 



Pensive, though in stately splendor, sits the Year, her 

 toiling o'er, — 

 Pensive still, though on her forehead gleam the jewels 

 of a queen ; 

 For her roses and her lilies bloom around her feet no 

 more, 

 And her waving fields have bent them to the sickle 

 bright and keen. 



