. Birds and flowers, or, Lays and lyrics of rural life . ng, go,With scythe or sickle, all a-row;And gleaners with their burdens boonCome home beneath the harvest-moon. THE MONTHS. 31 September, rich in corn and wine,Of the twelve months completeth apples rosy grow, and seedRipens in tree and flower and weed ;Now the green acorn groweth brown,And ruddy nuts come showering down. The summer-time is ended now, And autumn tinteth every bough ; The days are bright, the air is still, Octobers mists are on the hill; Down droops the fern, and fades the heather, And thistle-down floats like a

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. Birds and flowers, or, Lays and lyrics of rural life . ng, go,With scythe or sickle, all a-row;And gleaners with their burdens boonCome home beneath the harvest-moon. THE MONTHS. 31 September, rich in corn and wine,Of the twelve months completeth apples rosy grow, and seedRipens in tree and flower and weed ;Now the green acorn groweth brown,And ruddy nuts come showering down. The summer-time is ended now, And autumn tinteth every bough ; The days are bright, the air is still, Octobers mists are on the hill; Down droops the fern, and fades the heather, And thistle-down floats like a feather. Dark on the earth November lies ;Cloud, fog, and storm oergloom the skies;The matted leaves lie neath our hollow winds wail overhead ;Pile up the hearth,—its heartsome blazeCheers, like a sun, the darkest days I The year it groweth old apace:Eleven months have run their race, 32 THE MONTHS. And dull December brings to earthThat time which gave our Saviour year is done !—Let all revereThe great, good Father of the year !.

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