Ho for October! he's coming! he's coming!
Swallows fly southward, the bees cease their humming.
Leaves red and yellow, air soft and mellow,
Herald this very old, merry old fellow.
Say you he's sober? Nay, not October,
Gay as Aurora, first glimpse of the morn;
Ho for the apple bees! Ho for the evening glees!
Ho for the husking of ripe yellow corn!
Down by the river's flow softly the zephyrs blow,
Brightly above smiles the radiant sky;
Dreamy the morning haze, beauty meets every gaze.
Sweet songs of joy on the breezes float by.
Up on the mountain's crest light fleecy cloudlets rest.
Gorgeous the forests with crimson and gold,
Squirrels hop all about sorting ripe chestnuts out,
Hide them in coverts they never have told.
Dear old October, how gladly we greet him,
Bringing the autumn days full of good cheer,
Stories at eventide all round the fireside;
Ho for the merriest month of the year!
Clara Louise Angel, R.T.L.
Oddly, the winner of the second prize lives also in New York city. His name is Simon T. Stern, aged sixteen.
THE LITTLE BLIND GIRL.
There's a winsome little maid,
For her age quite prim and staid—
Yet so kind;
But this bonnie lassie bright
Has ne'er seen the golden light—
For she's blind.
Hers in a pleasant oval face,
Full of sweetness, full of grace,
And no care;
Two blue eyes look up at me,
It is not that they can see—
Only stare.
"What if I have no sight,
And see not a ray of light,"
So says she;
"God has given me a mind,
In a thousand ways been kind
To poor me.
"With the dearest happy home,
Through which I delight to roam,
Am I blest;
Have I not a father bold,
And a mother I can fold
To my breast?"
So this bonnie lassie brave
Does not sigh at what He gave,
Nor lament;
If to murmur you're inclined.
Take this lesson from the blind:
Be content.
Simon Theodore Stern, R.T.K.
The third prize goes to Detroit, Michigan, the winner being Carrie R. Schrop, aged twelve.
TWO SHOULDERS AT THE WHEEL.
Should you meet a troubled brother,
Then a kindred spirit feel.
Heavy burdens might be lifted
With two shoulders at the wheel.
Let him know you take an interest;
'Twill not take him long to see
Whether you're a true well-wisher,
Or a shamming Pharisee.
And the time may not be distant
When you'll lack both strength and zeal,—
When perhaps you will be grateful
For one extra at the wheel.
Do not turn your back upon him,
Do not coolly walk away,
Just because you think you're made of
Some superior kind of clay.
When you come to think about it.—
And sometimes we mortals must,—
There is nothing very striking
In the finest kind of dust.
More than that! We cannot claim it;
'Tis but lent to us on trust!
And pray what is there to boast of
In ashes, clay, or dust?
Carrie R. Schrop, R.T.L.
Poems deserving special commendation are: "The Harvest-Time," by Ethel Marjorie Knapp, of Virginia, aged twelve; "The Valkyries," by Virginia Berkley Bowie, of Maryland, aged fifteen; "Skating," by Leslie D. Reeves, of Pennsylvania, aged seventeen; "An Appeal to Apollo," by Sanford M. Salyer, New York; "Ike," by Lottie Hay Meredith, of Illinois; and "Pleading," by Ida Lee Sharp, of Maryland.