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.

* * * * *

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.

The southern literary messenger, Vol. II., No. 1, December, 1835 · 第 9 / 106 题