Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.
By WalterMalone1571 October in Tennessee
F
The turquoise skies are hung in dreamy sleep;
Below, the fields of cotton, fleecy-white,
Are spreading like a mighty flock of sheep.
October robes the weeds in purple gowns;
He Sprinkles all the sterile fields with gold,
And all the rustic trees wear royal crowns.
With pink and purple morning-glory blooms;
The starry asters glorify the waste,
While grasses stand on guard with pikes and plumes.
The chill winds call for blossoms that are dead,
The cricket chirps for sunshine passed away,—
The lovely summer songsters that have fled.
Amid the flutter of her withered leaves,
Pale Summer for her perished kingdom pines,
And all the glories of her golden sheaves.
Within the palace of his scarlet bowers,—
Entreats her to forget her heart-break pain,
And weep no more above her faded flowers.
To storm the golden city of his foe;
We hear his rude winds like the roll of drums,
Bringing their desolation and their woe.
Splashes its giant glowing waves on high,
The forest flames with blazes red as blood,—
A conflagration sweeping to the sky.
Are gathered in a mighty funeral pyre;
October, like a King resigned to fate,
Dies in his forests with their sunset fire.