. The book of months . v .■^^.V^.ivr^r OCTOBER lashes of water and weep their petals silentljaway. A tree was blown down in the night notfar from the house-—an elm growing in a hedge-row—and a cruel, gaping wound of torn earthhas opened, with the section of the root like tort-ured and exposed nerves standing out into theair. For thirty yards round the field is litteredwith the pitiful debris—torn branches, bunchesof leaf, even a couple of birds nests. For it,poor soul, autumn has been the end of life, andspring will not build it anew. All day the streaming heavens weep theirviolent and blindin
. The book of months . v .■^^.V^.ivr^r OCTOBER lashes of water and weep their petals silentljaway. A tree was blown down in the night notfar from the house-—an elm growing in a hedge-row—and a cruel, gaping wound of torn earthhas opened, with the section of the root like tort-ured and exposed nerves standing out into theair. For thirty yards round the field is litteredwith the pitiful debris—torn branches, bunchesof leaf, even a couple of birds nests. For it,poor soul, autumn has been the end of life, andspring will not build it anew. All day the streaming heavens weep theirviolent and blinding tears, and the loud galefills me with vague and intolerable a lost soul it moans round the corner of thehouses, and through the cracks of the closedwindows it whistles in descending and ascendingchromatic scale. Now and then there comes alull, but again it breaks out in a hooting maniacchorus, as if Bedlam were loose. The tattoo ofthe rain on the glass joins in the hurly-burly,255 ,<^:CVy. iH riVSJt;:v\ ^■ . -7,T--^-- ^i
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookidcu3192401358, bookyear1903
