The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1893-10-18
AUTUMN.
Contributed for the II. L. G.

rBearing the shining sickle I'm his hand,
And crown'd with chaplets Of nodding
Autumn. the Reaper. stalks the land.
With drifts Of dead leaves blown about
his feet"
As we light our lamp the EARLIER and
notice that darkness enwraps old Mother
Earth within its folds so much sooner
than in the evenings of the by-gone
month, we realize that summer with it's
blithe-voiced birds and beautiful flowers
has unconsciously passed away and that
we are entering upon that season Of the
year when all the golden fruition of the
summers sun and shower are to be
garnered for the winter time.
o, what beautiful season. Although
the cool breath Of morn warns us of the
chilling blasts that Boreas will send
down upon US from his home in the
landscape. the morning sunrise dtspell-
ing the vapors in the valleys and the
evening sunset tinging the mountains.
hills, and clouds with a suffused beauty,
ETHEREAL and fairy-like, make this the
grandest time of all the year, for now
man and nature seem to be in perfect
harmony.
Sweet IL the voice that calls
From babbling waterfalls,
In meadows where the downy seeds
And soft the breezes blow
And e1dying come and go,
In faded gardens where the rose is dy-
ing"
their summer uniforms OF emerald and
under the spell of the magician Jack
Frost stand like ghostly sentinels, grim
and shivering, beneath the harvest moon
end yellow with age when the MONDAY
sun strikes down upon them Ihe
nd
then revealing the store of sunshine
absorbed during the hot days of sum-
mer.
The russell fields resigning to the fail,
Their golden sheaves are not yet all
For here and there. drab-dress'd the
Quaker quail,
Like cleaning Ruth. secure what man
In other fields the marshaled hosts
have fallen beneath the sickle and stand
like Indian wigwams among the stubble,.
while beneath their shetering arms
CLEANS the yellow pumpkin, bright
herald of Thanksgiving pies.
among the stumbled corn
The blithe quail pipe at morn
The merry partridge drums in hidden
And giitter1ng insects CLEAN
Above the rudy stream,
Where busy spiders spin their fmy
laces."
Near the meadow stream now swollen
with autumnal rains, the rank cat-tails
thrust forth their brown heads and
from neglected fields the golden rod
CLEANS forth respondent In it's robes OF
state.
1.-The lands are lit
With all the Autumn blaze of golden
rod.
And everywhere the purple asters nod
And bend and move and fit"
The sunac's crimson flashes out from
t7e neglected fence-rOws and on the
border Of the void, and the Indian pipes
hang brown and pendulOus where once
ghttered the snowy blossoms of the
cafalpa.
The mullen stands upon the upland
brown
a l9nely sentinel; the thistle down
Floats ghostlike through the haze;
The .sumacs drabbled in the summers
FIaunt bodily. making gorgeous all te
Green. gold and purple shades enchant the
And cali to mind some vale of Sicily"
The orchards now bend beneath their
load Of ripening fruit or where bereft
of their many-hued burdens sigh mourn
fully as each passing breeze sways their
empty boughs.
'Tn orchards heaped with fruit the beg
Sigh hoarseiy each to each with windy
words,
And toss their bare arms, 60 the ntfn
Like frantic missrs Ioath 70 lose their
boards
In MANY rudy heap. he sa-..r.s