OCTOBER.

BENDING above the spicy woods which blaze,
Arch skies so blue they flash, and hold the sun
Immeasurably far; the waters run

Too slow, so freighted are the river-ways
With gold of elms and birches from the maze
Of forests. Chestnuts, clicking one by one,
Escape from satin burs; her fringes done,
The gentian spreads them out in sunny days,
And, like late revellers at dawn, the chance
Of one sweet, mad, last hour, all things assail,
And conquering, flush and spin; while to enhance
The spell, by sunset door, wrapped in a veil
Of red and purple mists, the summer, pale,
Steals back alone for one more song and dance.
Mrs. H. H. Jackson.

The bee knows honey,

And the blossoms light,
Day the dawning,
Stars the night;
The slow, glad river
Knows its sea;

Is it true, Love,

I know not thee?

October 2.

Mrs. R. T. Cooke.

'Tis nobler far

To bear defeat than shine a star
In circled seat of rounded fame.
I reach my hand in trust to you.

Other work for man is none

But to do the Master's will;

Joaquin Miller.

Wet with rain, or parched with sun,
Meekly I Thy garden till.

October 3.

Robert Lowell.

Though tangled hard life's knot may be,
And wearily we rue it,

The silent touch of Father Time

Some day will sure undo it.

Then, darling, wait;

Nothing is late.

Mrs. M. M. Dodge.