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Show J II i I Ml I JJ Rippling Rlhymes Bj WALT MASON u . ; M hi mwx3i n, i MILD SEPTEMBER When fair September's at the gale, la lot of troubles pull their freight. I "At last," we sigh, "we may expect a cllmnto foothlng and correct; so let the timbrel and the lyre be sounded, chough we still perspire; let Joyful music echoes wake, e'en though we oiZ7le, fry and bake." September, month of quecnlv charm, too often proves a false alarm She can be hotter hot-ter than July, August, too, and not half try But we forget the breaks she's made, when she. In autumn I loaves arrayed, comes, promising an early frost, and coolness, hecdliss ol the cost. Were glad to take he-r at H her word, and say she Is a peach, a H bird, for we're so sick of summer heat, H With pavements melting in the street,. H of torrid days and burning nights, and H Weepful walls of weary wlghta! Sep- H timber seems to herald Frill, and Fall s' H a boon to one and all, when there's H chill In every breeze, and we've a Vcent chance to freeze, and catch bad olds and have the flu and all tho H Ills thut ever grew, our furnaces we soon must vtoke and get our great-coats great-coats out of soak and ask the coal H man if he'll wait six months for pay-ment pay-ment for his slate. September stirs i up thoughts like this, what wonder if we're filled with bliss'' Copyright by Qeorge Mntthew Adams- |