SEPTEMBER
As the smoker sometimes sees
In Nicotian reveries
Features of some Lovely Girl
In the tinted wreaths that curl
From his pipe; so, as we gaze
Through the soft September haze
In the years' calm afternoon
Red with summer's ashes strewn,
Through the tender veil of mist,
Woven gold and amethyst,
Summer's charming ghost we see
Decked in Indian panoply.
