THE MONTHS
The season has now advanced to full maturity. The corn is yielding to the sickle, the husbandmen,
"By whose tough labours, and rough hands,"
our barns are stored with grain, are at their toils, and when nature is despoiled of her riches and beauty, will, with glad and joyous heart, celebrate the annual festival of
THE HARVEST HOME.
BY CORNELIUS WEBBE.
Hark! the ripe and hoary rye
Waving white and billowy,
Gives a husky rustle, as
Fitful breezes fluttering pass.