OCTOBER Down, the faded leaves are drifting, From grey branches overhead; All summer birds have taken flight, The grass is sere and dead.-- The brown earth tells us Summer's gone-- The frost lies white at early morn. October See! now is yon distant landscape Clothed in warm and purple haze; Redolent with ripen'd harvests Of the Indian Summer days. Bright--ye golden days--and glad, Beautiful, yet erstwhile sad October Now the corn, no longer waving, Shocked, stands waiting for the bin; Choice fruit and garden products Soon will all be gathered in. Golden pumpkins, piled up high,-- Indicative of luscious pie! October!