OCTOBER, May of the descending days,
Mid-Spring of Autumn, on the shortening stair
Of the year's eld abiding still and fair,
A pause of peace, when all the world at gaze,
'Neath the mild mirage of thy sun-filled haze,
Chewing the cud of Summer's sweets that were,
Lingers, unmindful of the Winter's care,
Yet in thy russet woods and leaf-strewn ways;
Sweet was the Summer, sweeter yet the Spring;
But in these mist-attempered noons of thine,
Hung with the clustering jewels of the vine,
And in thy ruddock's clear, contented lay,
A charm of solace is, that in no thing
To Summer-suns may yield or blossoms gay.