For waters and fruits, and for flowers the rarest,
And for bright shining butterflies, lovely as flowers.
Mary Howitt.
34. When September's golden day,
Serenely still, intensely bright,
Fades on the umber'd hills away
And melts into the coming night.
Mrs. Whitman.
35. When Autumn chills the foliage, and sheds
O'er the piled leaves, among the evergreens,