Part 10 (1/2)

I never knew before what beds, Fragrant to smell, and soft to touch, The forest sifts and shapes and spreads; I never knew before how much Of human sound there is in such Low tones as through the forest sweep, When all wild things lie ”down to sleep.”

Each day I find new coverlids Tucked in, and more sweet eyes shut tight; Sometimes the viewless mother bids Her ferns kneel down full in my sight; I hear their chorus of ”good-night”; And half I smile, and half I weep, Listening while they lie ”down to sleep.”

November woods are bare and still; November days are bright and good; Life's noon burns up life's morning chill; Life's night rests feet which long have stood; Some warm soft bed, in field or wood, The mother will not fail to keep, Where we can ”lay us down to sleep.”

SEPTEMBER

The goldenrod is yellow, The corn is turning brown, The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down;

The gentian's bluest fringes Are curling in the sun; In dusty pods the milkweed Its hidden silk has spun;

The sedges flaunt their harvest In every meadow nook, And asters by the brookside Make asters in the brook;

From dewy lanes at morning The grapes' sweet odors rise; At noon the roads all flutter With yellow b.u.t.terflies--

By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather And autumn's best of cheer.

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 b.u.mble-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 s.h.i.+ning, 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;

When comrades seek sweet country haunts, By twos and twos together, And count like misers hour by hour, October's bright blue weather.

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.

POEMS BY GABRIEL SETOUN

ROMANCE

I saw a s.h.i.+p a-sailing, A-sailing on the sea; Her masts were of the s.h.i.+ning gold, Her deck of ivory; And sails of silk, as soft as milk, And silver shrouds had she.

And round about her sailing, The sea was sparkling white, The waves all clapped their hands and sang To see so fair a sight.

They kissed her twice, they kissed her thrice, And murmured with delight.