THE autumn time is with us. Its approach

Was heralded, not many days ago,

By hazy skies that veiled the brazen sun,

And sea-like murmurs from the

rustling corn,

And low-voiced brooks that

wander drowsily

By purpling clusters of the juicy


Swinging upon the vine. And

now 'tie here,

And what a change hath passed

upon the face

Of nature, where thy waving

forests spread,

Then robed in deepest green!

All through the night

The subtle frost hath plied its

mystic art,

And in the day the golden sun

bath wrought

True wonders; and the wings

of morn and even

Have touched with magic breath

the changing leaves.


And now, as wanders the

dilating eye

Athwart the varied landscape

circling far,

What gorgeousness, what

blazonry, what pomp

Of colors, burst upon the

ravished sight!

Here, where the maple rears its

yellow crest,

A golden glory; yonder, where

the oak

Stands monarch of the forest,

and the ash

Is girt with flame-like parasite,

and broad

The dog-wood spreads beneath

a rolling field

Of deepest crimson; and afar,

where looms

The gnarled gum, a cloud of

bloodiest red!



William D. Gallagher.