
OCTOBER SUNSHINE 
BY ROSCOE BRUMBAUGH 
Some master artist passed this way, 
Who touched the woods and fields with gold ; 
And lo! the sane, sweet light of day 
Is brightest as the year grows old. 
The west wind plays among the leaves, 
The brook croons soft its lullaby ; 
It seems the very sunshine weaves 
Some secret lure about the sky. 
October smiles; while, one by one, 
The flowers vanish, birds depart ; 
And though the Summer’s life is done, 
Somehow ’tis Summer in the heart. 
