272 LOVESIGHT. : LOVESIGHT. WHEN do I see thee most, beloved one? The worship of that Love through thee made known? Dante Gabriel Rossetti. EVENING. 273 EVENING. ALREADY evening! In the duskiest nook Shelves his sharp light up shallow banks thin-spread; The moon is lifting: and deliciously Along the warm blue hills the day declines. The first star brightens while she waits for me, The white rose, whispering "He will come to-night!" Modern Poets. 18 274 AUTUMN. AUTUMN. THOU Comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain, OCTOBER. 275 OCTOBER. THE passionate summer's dead! The sky's aglow Whose pomp of strange procession upwards rolls Paul H. Hayne. 276 THE INDIAN SUMMER. THE INDIAN SUMMER. It is the season when the light of dreams Mantled with mysteries of their own romance, The chesnut stands. But when the north-wind stirs, Thomas Buchanan Read |