Musing.

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