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!
O, 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 th deep rocky scaur!
Thou tell'st me the friens that I loo'd in Life's Simmer,
Like thy chequered leaves frae my heart dra awa";
An' eave, 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
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