OCTOBER. 165 OCTOBER. A SONNET. Ay, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath, In the gay woods and in the golden air, In such a bright, late quiet, would that I Might wear out life like thee, mid bowers and brooks, And, dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks, And music of kind voices ever nigh; And when my last sand twinkled in the glass, Pass silently from men, as thou dost pass. |