OCTOBER.
October in New England is perhaps the most beautiful—certainly the most magnificent month in the year. The peculiar brilliancy of the skies and purity of the atmosphere,—the rich and variegated colors of the forest trees, and the deep, bright dyes of the flowers, are unequalled by any thing in the other seasons of the year; but the ruin wrought among the flowers by one night of those severe frosts which occur at the latter end of the month, after a day of cloudless and intense sunshine, can scarcely be imagined by one not familiar with the scene.
| Thou'rt here again, October, with that queenly look of thine— All gorgeous thine apparel and all golden thy sunshine— So brilliant and so beautiful—'tis like a fairy show— The earth in such a splendid garb, the heav'ns in such a glow. 'Tis not the loveliness of Spring—the roses and the birds, Nor Summer's soft luxuriance and her lightsome laughing words; Yet not the fresh Spring's loveliness, nor Summer's mellow glee Come o'er my spirit like the charm that's spread abroad by thee. The gaily-mottled woods that shine—all crimson, drab, and gold, With fascination strong the mind in pensive musings hold, And the rays of glorious sunshine there in saddening lustre fall— 'Tis the funeral pageant of a king with his gold and crimson pall. Thou'rt like the Indian matron, who adorns her baby fair, E'er she gives it to the Ganges' flood, all bright, to perish there; Thou callest out the trusting buds with the lustre of thy sky, And clothest them in hues of Heaven all gloriously—to die. Thou'rt like the tyrant lover, wooing soft his gentle bride— Anon the fit of passion comes—and her smitten heart hath died; The tyrant's smile may come again, and thy cheering noonday skies, But smitten hearts and flowers are woo'd, in vain, again to rise. |
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Thy reign was short, thou Beautiful, but they were despot's hours— The gold leaves met the forest ground, and fallen are the flowers; Ah, 'tis the bitterness of earth, that fairest, goodliest show, Comes to the heart deceitfully, and leaves the deeper wo. |
ELIZA.
Maine.