NATURE’S GLORY.
Oh, golden days with cloudless skies—
When forests flame with gorgeous dyes;
A touch of wine seems in the air,
Fields are brown—pastures bare.
Deep purple wraps the distant hills,
Gray shadows fall upon the rills;—
Thro’ rustling corn the zephyrs sigh,
In grief to see fair summer die.
These are days of Nature’s glory,
Sung in song, and told in story.
—J. Mayne Baltimore.