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Page OCTOBER'S BRIGHT BLUE WEATHER. 97 SONNET--OCTOBER. 98 SONNET--AUTUMN. 98 THE COLUMBINE. 101 THE RUFFED GROUSE. 102 THE BLUE GENTIANS. 107 TO THE FRINGED GENTIAN. 108 THE BABY LIONS. 109 SUNFLOWERS AND DAISIES. 110 A TRUE STORY OF A WAYWARD BOB WHITE. 113 THE OSWEGO TEA. 116 FLOWERS AND THEIR UNBIDDEN GUESTS. 119 HOW WE MAY BEST PAY THE DEBT. 122 A FEW OF THE BIRD FAMILY. 125 THE DOMESTIC FOWL. 125 BOB WHITE. 128 THE RAINBOW TROUT. 131 DAY AND NIGHT. 132 THE GEOLOGICAL SUCCESSION OF FISHES. 133 THE DEEP. 139 THE AMERICAN REDSTART. 140 THE FLYING FISH. 141
OCTOBER'S BRIGHT BLUE WEATHER.
O suns and skies and clouds of June, And flowers of June together, Ye cannot rival for one hour October's bright blue weather.
When loud the bumble-bee makes haste, Belated, thriftless vagrant, And golden-rod is dying fast, And lanes with grapes are fragrant;
When gentians roll their fringes tight To save them for the morning, And chestnuts fall from satin burrs Without a sound of warning;
When on the ground red apples lie In piles like jewels shining, And redder still on old stone walls Are leaves of woodbine twining;
When all the lovely wayside things Their white-winged seeds are sowing, And in the fields, still green and fair, Late aftermaths are growing;
When springs run low, and on the brooks, In idle golden freighting, Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush Of woods, for winter waiting;
O suns and skies and flowers of June, Count all your boasts together, Love loveth best of all the year October's bright blue weather. Helen Hunt Jackson.
SONNET--OCTOBER.
Ay, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath! When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf, And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, And the year smiles as it draws near its death. Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay In the gay woods and in the golden air, Like to a good old age released from care, Journeying, in long serenity, away. In such a bright, late quiet, would that I Might wear out life like thee, 'mid bowers and brooks, And dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks, And music of kind voices ever nigh; And when my last sand twinkled in the glass, Pass silently from men, as thou dost pass. --William Cullen Bryant.
SONNET--AUTUMN.
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