BIRDS ftND NftTURE. 



ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY. 



Vol. X. OCTOBER, 1901. No. 3 



SONNET— OCTOBER. 



The month of carnival of all the year, 

 When Nature lets the wild earth go its way, 

 And spend whole seasons on a single day. 

 The spring-time holds her white and purple dear; 

 October, lavish, flaunts them far and near; 

 The summer charily her reds doth lay 

 Like jewels on her costliest array; 

 October, scornful, burns them on a bier. 

 The winter hoards his pearls of frost in sign 

 Of kingdom: whiter pearls than winter knew, 

 Or Empress wore, in Egypt's ancient line, 

 October, feasting 'neath her dome of blue, 

 Drinks at a single draught, slow filtered through 

 Sunshiny air, as in a tingling wine! 



— Helen Hunt Jackson. 



October comes, a woodman old, 

 Fenced with tough leather from the cold; 

 Round swings his sturdy axe, and lo! 

 A fir-branch falls at every blow. 



— Walter Thornbury. 



97 



