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Show SEPTEMBER. Jeun Woods Koontz. Clouds of mist across the morning. Frostly tinges in the air. Drifting oft on the seas o.' sunrise, Mellow into sunshine rare. Far and wide the aftermath. Made of harvest, flower and weed, : In the lazy winds of autumn -Strews abroad its wanton seed. Banks of goldenrod an aster, Clumps of sage in cowls of gray, Whita above, In tangled splendor, Nodding sunflowers Idly sway. All is still, save when the locust Shrilly sounds its whirring call, Or the cricket, safely bidden, Sings Its monotone of full. Tls the ebbing of the summer, Sweeping back from harvest tide To the n-ndezvous where Nature . Waits, her forces to divide. |