This golden-browed September land

This golden-browed September land
Is rich of heart and free of hand;
Fresh from the mint of God, and taintless,
Are flung her guineas of gold, like sand.

Here where the road winds round the hill,
And down beside the tidal mill,
Marsh goldenrod and its plumed sister
Their spangled ore in a largess spill.

The Sabbath sabbatize, said He,--
This gold is sacred unto me,--
Rich gift of God unknown of mammon,
Kingdom of Heaven by the roadside, free!