THE INDIAN SUMMER.
Now the sweet autumnal Summer which the Indian loved so well,
Over mountain, plain, and hollow sheds the glory of its spell.
Softer breathe the gentle zephyrs, and like visitants they seem
From a latitude benigner, from a climate more serene.
Dream the heavens warm and glowing, shining veils of tepid haze,
Nimbus-like investing nature, through the long celestial days.
Cities, hamlets, russet woodlands, saintly halos seem to wear,
All transfigured in the splendor of the mild October air.
Such perchance the lenient ether, such as these the tranquil skies,