“October turned my maple's leaves to gold The most are gone now here and there one lingers Soon these will slip from out the twig's weak hold Like coins between a dying miser's fingers.”

“If cold December gave you birth The month of snow and ice and mirth Place on your hand a turquoise blue Success will bless what'er you do.”

“Thirty days hath September April June and November All the rest have thirty-one Excepting February alone: Which hath but twenty-eight in fine Till leap year gives it twenty-nine.”

“O sweet September thy first breezes bring The dry leaf's rustle and the squirrel's laughter The cool fresh air whence health and vigor spring And promise of exceeding joy hereafter.”