The Dawson news. (Dawson, Ga.) 1889-current, 1915-10-19
The Dying Summer.
From the Memphis Commercial ApneaI

Summer is dying. Death comes slowly and ev.
ly. browsing insects softly chant their miserSre
Wayside weeds bow their tired heads in sorrou
Tall trees stand solemnly erect, their witbarin
leaves huttering apprehensivey because of the an
preaching end
Nature seems to hesitate although her lave 49,.
inexorable. She seems loath to bid farewell to the
months of peace and plenty She seems sad1U
looking forward to the unwelcome weeks of VII
ter-weeks of wind and rain and cheerlessness -
Early morning msts, gray and gloomy beavv
and disconsoate, drape the fields and open snoc
with dewy dampness. The evening sun, red-eyc5
and reluctant, seeks sanctuary in the shadows 80
the western clouds. The pail of purple night hans
heavily about the sleeping world-hangs nationt97s
and pathetically. Through indefinite vstas the MY
moon of autumn peeps plaintiyely down upon tho
vanishing summer. ~
The love song of the birds has changed to
requiem, and is oftly obbed as each early morn
ing brings the death of summer nearer.
We look upon the scene with sorrow The varv
midday silence of the woods is ominous
1t is natures history repeating itself 1t is tbo
story of the year. We have been chilled nv the
winds of winter We have been aroused by tue tne
blasts of March, have sighed expectantly becanse
of April's tears, have been sufused with tho
bushes of May, and inspired with the sunny smile
of June.
Then came the summer, the fertile, fruitful
fecund season.
Natures laws inscrutabe. They apply alike
to the lives of men and women, to the sphere of
animals and birds, to the world of living things
In the spring of youth man must marry woman
must produce and multiply. In the summer of their
maturity they watch the perpetuation of the race
continue. In the winter of old age they enter
upon their long sleep.
When summer dies the world sleeps to awaken
in the spring.
Soon great oaks will begin to miss their leaves
They will toss their naked limbs and grieve for
the vestments they have lost.
The thistle is freighting every passing breezo
with her argosies of down. and each contains seed
to be planted sometime and somewhere
Acorns fall, are buried beneath the turf, only
to give life to the future oaks.
The sumach holds aloft her cup of spice and in
each pungent cup there is the germ of another life
Gray and gaunt, dusty and dropping weeds tell
of the dying summer. Their missio,. is near an
end. They have fulfilled natures decree. They
will leave their seed to multiply when the fecund
breath of spring warns the awakening world.
Fields and gardens have given their best for the
good of man.
Peace prevails. The end is near The death
OF summer will soon be recorded in a glory of
color.
Yes, summer is dying. The sound of the insect
has become subdued. The rythmical chorus of
the cricket and katydids is still shrily heard as
day departs and dusk seeks concealment beneath
the cloak of night.
Sparrows chatter among themselves. The woods
no longer cheerfully echo bird songs. Even our
feathered friends feel the approaching dissolution
The air is filled with farewells
The death of summer will be death of glory.
Her shroud will be autumn's richest weaving. of
the finest fabric and most brilliant colors There
will be the royal purple of the fox grape the full
gurant fire of the crimson dogwood, the brilliant
gold and scarlet of the maple, the pale pink and
yellow of the sassafras, the wine and russell of
the black gum. Natures color scheme, in perfec-
ton, will crown the death of summer.
The golden rod will solemniZe the end with a
gentle wave of her dazzling fronds. Chrysanthe-
NUNS will crowd through autumns opening door
Dahlias, their waxen petals wet with early dew,
will dry their tears when warmed by the early
sun. Star-eyed cosmos will offer tribute. Wild
clematis, a rosary of white is being suspended
around the throat of the dying season. Tall reeds
and the bronze grasses of the swamp tower like
sacred candles. The incense of lavender and thyme
fill the air with fragrance.
The coming death of summer foreshadows an
other season. 1t will leave an inspiration of
life. The future will be filled with hope A leg
acy of promise will be left as the heritage of
kind.