The Republican journal., 1900-10-11
An Autumnal Leaf Letter.

last few days snow has been seen on the
tips of the far off mountains, and
"The maple in the swamp begins to flame
III gold and red;
Ana in the elm the fire-blrd's nest
Swings empty overhead
And SO, Summers dead, said L,
summers deado
'sThe barberry hangs her jewels out,
And guards them with thorn
The merry farmer boys cut down
The poor old dried up corn;
And so, Summers gone, said L,
summers gomez
ga wonderful glory fills the air,
And big and bright is the sun;
A loving hand for the big brown earth
A garment of beauty has spun
But for all that, Summers DONE said L,
Summers done.'
l read the following statement recently,
which l think all will readily adopt:
ono one can tell when summer passes
into autumn. The four seasons make a
visible harmony like four voices in song"
l think, however, that when the golden
rod appears in New England, we can safely
count on the summer being half gone.
A writer in Harper's says that he likes the
word "fall" better than 'sautumn," because
decline-the descent of the year from its
summer height, to its winter level. Autumn
is not so much written about as in the past,
but the theme is none the less beautiful.
Every school child is familiar with Whit
| tiers corn song, beginning with
"Heap high the farmers wintry hoard
| Heap high the golden corn.
| No richer gift has autumn poured
| From out her lavish norm
LOngfellow takes a turn at the subject
and tells about
"With what glory comes and goes the
year,
| Red and yellow everywhere
| Royal colors upon every tree and hillside
| Surely October is as much the poets month
as is June.
| "Can we fairly call him sober,
This splendid, rich October?
Pouring out his sweets and beauty
| In such lavish gifts as these?H
| Here is a memory gem for the children
| "NoOnS are sunny and warm and still.
A golden haze O er hangs the hill,
Amber sunshines on the floor,
Just within the open door.
Still the cricket'S call-and weak,
Never found though long we seek
Oft comes faint report OF gun
Busy flies buzz in the sun
In October.
Reference to the cricket reminds me of
the katydid, its boon companion O. W.
Holmes asks
$50 tell me where did Katy live,
And what did Katy do?
And was she very fair and young,
And yet so wicked, too
Did Katy love a naughty man,
Or kiss more cheeks than one?
III warrant Katy did no more
Than many Kate has DONE
| began this letter by speaking in rather
mournful way of Summers departure
Every one does not so look upon it. Here
is what mirthful poet sings:
''Farewell, sweet Summer.
Though in minor key
The poets with bent brows are sadly sigh
ing
But nothing of the kind she'll get from me,
l was extremely glad to see her flying.
AS for her golden days" why,
Countless flies and hOTrid heat
Were much their strongest features,
And her calm nights mosquitoes wrought,
And many other noisy winged creatures
Besides which, and 0 poets, when l think
of them,
At your regret | wonder
Her ''gentle showers" so often scared the
world
With lightning flashes and terrific thunder
No, no, sweet Summer, me you do not
leave
Singing in minor key half broken hearted
Let other rhymsters mourn that you are
gone,
I'm very glad indeed that you've departed
Still one more poet rejecting upon the
pleasantest time to die, after considering
the claims of all the seasons, puts his con-
illusions in this way:
81 would not die in Autumn
With peaches fit for eating;
When the yellow corn is sweet and ripe,
And melons stand for treating;
For these, and other reasons
I'd not die in the fall
And since I've thought it over
| would not die at all"
And now We'll let this Autumn leaf lie at
your feet, with this wish t1uttering back to
you:
'The sweet old story of the year
is spinning onward to its close.
Let sounds as welcome on the ear
AS in the time of opening rose.
May life for all more sweetly wane,
When comes the harvest time again.
W.