October

SEE how the great old forest vies
With all the glory of the skies,
In streaks without a name ;
And leagues on leagues of scarlet spires,
And temples lit with crimson fires,
And palaces of flame !
And domes on domes that gleam afar,
Through many a gold and crimson bar,
With azure overhead ;
While forts, with towers on towers arise,
As if they meant to scale the skies,
With banner bloody red !

Here, orange groves that seem asleep ;
There, stately avenues that sweep
To where the land declines ;
There, starting up in proud array,
With helmets flashing to the day,
Troop upon troop of pines !
Here, evergreens that have withdrawn,
And hang around the open lawn,
With shadows creeping back ;
While yonder, girdled hemlocks run
Like fiery serpents to the sun,
Upon their gleaming track !

And, in the distance far apart,
As if to shame man's proudest art,
Cathedral arches spread ;
While yonder ancient elm has caught
A glory, 'yond the reach of thought,
Upon his hoary head.
But every object, far and wide —
The very air is glorified —
A perfect dream of bliss !
Earth's greatest painters never could,
Nor poet in inspired mood,
Imagine aught like this.

O what are all ambition's gains !
What matters it who rules or reigns
While I have standing here !
Gleams of unutterable things,
The work of the great King of kings !
God of the full-crown'd year !
October ! thou'rt a marvellous sight,
And with a rapture of delight
We hail thy gorgeous pinion ;
To elevate our hearts thou'rt here,
To bind us with a tie more dear
To our beloved Dominion !