Octoberby Paul Laurence Dunbar
- October is the treasurer of the year,
- And all the months pay bounty to her store:
- The fields and orchards still their tribute bear,
- And fill her brimming coffers more and more.
- But she, with youthful lavishness,
- Spends all her wealth in gaudy dress,
- And decks herself in garments bold
- Of scarlet, purple, red, and gold.
- She heedeth not how swift the hours fly,
- But smiles and sings her happy life along;
- She only sees above a shining sky;
- She only hears the breezes' voice in song.
- Her garments trail the woodland through,
- And gather pearls of early dew
- That sparkle till the roguish Sun
- Creeps up and steals them every one.
- But what cares she that jewels should be lost,
- When all of Nature's bounteous wealth is hers?
- Though princely fortunes may have been their cost,
- Not one regret her calm demeanor stirs.
- Whole-hearted, happy, careless, free,
- She lives her life out joyously,
- Nor cares when Frost stalks o'er her way
- And turns her auburn locks to gray.
Lady In Blue
4 years ago