Dreams.

OCTOBER

Come, dowie October, in mantle o' yellow,

Wi' the Hyp an' the Haw on thy fast-fading croon;

Come, soothe me a blink wi' thy speech sad and mellow,

As 'mang the brown Brackens I saf t' lay me doun!

0, lay on my lips frae the Simmer sun droothie

Ae blab o' the Bramble, November shall mar;

An' read me yer sermon sae saftly an' coothie,

While draps the last Row'n in the deep rocky scaur!

Thou tell'st me the friens that I loo'd in Life's Simmer,

Like thy chequered leaves frae my heart drap awa";

An' leave, o' the licht o' ilk face, but a glimmer,

Aboon the wild waste o' Death's drear driftin' snaw!

October, I lo'e thee ! Thy whisper is soothing;

There is Lore in thy face, there is wealth in thy

bowers:

Thy pensiveness adds but a charm to my musing

And sweet are my dreams through thy fast ebbing

hours!

James Rigg