ay
Of Indian summer fades too soon;
But tenderly
Above the sea
Hangs, white and calm, the hunter's moon.
_The Eve of Election_. J.G. WHITTIER.

The brown leaves rustle down the forest glade,
Where naked branches make a fitful shade,
And the lost blooms of Autumn withered lie.
_October_. G. ARNOLD.

The dead leaves their rich mosaics
Of olive and gold and brown
Had laid on the rain-wet pavements,
Through all the embowered town.
_November_. S. LONGFELLOW.

When shrieked
The bleak November winds, and smote the woods,
And the brown fields were herbless, and the shades
That met above the merry rivulet
Were spoiled, I sought, I loved them still; they seemed
Like old companions in adversity.
_A Winter Piece_. W.C. BRYANT.

Dry leaves upon the wall,
Which flap like rustling wings and seek escape,
A single frosted cluster on the grape
Still hangs--and that is all.
_November_. S.C. WOOLSEY (_Susan Coolidge_).

WINTER.

Lastly came Winter, clothed all in frize,
Chattering his teeth for cold that did him chill;
Whilst on his hoary beard his breath did freeze,
And the dull drops that from his purple bill
As from a limbeck did adown distill;
In his right hand a tipped staff he held
With which his feeble steps he stayed still,
For he was faint with cold and weak with eld,
That scarce his loosed limbs he able was to weld.
_Faerie Queene, Bk. VII_. E. SPENSER.

Chaste as the icicle,
That's curded by the frost from purest snow,
And hangs on Dian's temple: dear Valeria!
_Coriolanus, Act v. Sc_. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

Silently as a dream the fabric rose,
No sound of hammer or of saw was there.
Ice upon ice, the well-adjusted parts
Were soon conjoined.
_The Task: Winter Morning Walk_. W. COWPER

When we shall hear
The rain and wind beat dark December, how,
In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse
The freezing hours away?
_Cymbeline, Act iii. Sc_. 3. SHAKESPEARE.

See, Winter comes, to rule the varied year,
Sullen and sad, with all his rising train;
Vapors, and Clouds, and Storms.
_The Seasons: Winter_. J. THOMSON.

From snow-topped hills the whirlwinds keenly blow,
Howl through the woods, and pierce the vales below,
Through the sharp air a flaky torrent flies,