SEPTEMBER.
The meridian sun,
Most sweetly smiling with attemper’d beams,
Sheds gently down a mild and grateful warmth;
Beneath its yellow luster groves and woods,
Checker’d by one night’s frost with various hues,
While yet no wind has swept a leaf away,
Shine doubly rich. It were a sad delight
Down the smooth stream to glide, and see it tinged
Upon each brink with all the gorgeous hues,