SEPTEMBER AND NOVEMBER. 249 



' Thy smile the scowl of winter braves. 



Last of the bright-robed, flowery train. 

 Soft sighing o'er the garden graves : 



' Farewell ! farewell ! — we meet again ! ' 

 So may life's chill November bring 



Hope's golden flower, the last of all, 

 Before we hear the angels sing 



Where blossoms never fade and fall I " 



37 



